


A Slave for Two

by Avrina



Series: A Slave's Fate [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Beating, Butt Plugs, Cock Cages, Collars, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Family, Family Issues, Femdom, Fictional Religion & Theology, Flirting, Friendship/Love, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Lies, Little Brothers, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Master/Slave, Matriarch, Mental Health Issues, Mistress, Non-Sexual Slavery, Protectiveness, Punishment, Sex, Sexual Slavery, Siblings, Sisters, Slavery, Unrequited Love, Violence, Whipping, Work, can slaves consent, farm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 65,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avrina/pseuds/Avrina
Summary: Dante is sold from the glittering metropolis to a lonely farm. There Carolyn Mitchell not only rules over the slaves with an iron grip, but also over her family. To find his place and a new home there is hard, especially because his new mistress Alice is barely interested in him - but her brother Frank is all the more...
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: A Slave's Fate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166111
Comments: 29
Kudos: 83
Collections: Favorite





	1. Slaves simply get sold

The sales hall had emptied and by the absence of customers and thus without sales talks, the clinking of the chains sounded even louder in the ears. The suppressed noises of the slaves became even more insistent. The orders of the merchants and their overseers became even sharper.  
It was the third of five sales days and the business was traditionally the weakest. Dante shifted his weight a little, the stool on which he sat creaked slightly. The saleswoman, who owned him for the moment, walked along the sales platform assigned to her, her dark red coat slapping against the heavy black boots. Her boots were the only thing Dante looked at, which he followed with his gaze as she walked up and down and finally stepped to him. With her crop she patted his cheek.  
"You should have made me a lot of money," she growled.  
Dante pushed his back straight, but at the same time lowered his head even further. It was a mystery to him why his former mistress had sold him to a transit-merchant of the lower middle class, of all people- or vice versa, why a transit-merchant of that class would spend so much money on an upper-class slave when her normal customers hardly had the funds to buy him.  
The saleswoman snorted and gave him a not-so-soft pat on the cheek with her crop, muttering something that sounded like _'bad investment'_. She turned away and the slave sitting on a stool to the right of Dante gave a shaky sigh of relief. He was almost still a boy, much too thin and with a cast on his left arm. Tomorrow and the day after, when the prices of human goods were falling, someone would probably come and buy this bunch of misery, too.  
Dante swallowed bitter saliva.  
Sick, wounded slaves did not belong here. _He_ did not belong here, not in such a run-down sales hall, not in heavy chains and not displayed practically naked. His teeth were grating, but then he raised his eyes when his saleswoman turned to the friendly customer tone.  
A tall muscle-bound man had stopped in front of the platform. His shirt had a large open neckline and three-quarter sleeves to flaunt the absence of slave collars and bracelets. A free man. _A free man_ who wanted to buy a slave.  
Dante's heart slipped into the ridiculous panties he had to wear.

"...with muscles, you say?" The merchant twirled her long dark braid between her fingers. "Well, my friend, come up here and look at my goods." Invitingly, she pointed to the platform and the man jumped up, ignoring the four steps on the side.  
"Not only muscles, but brains as well," he said determinedly.  
Dante had his eyes back on the shoes- the man wore worn-out but well-groomed work boots.  
"Brains? Brains like general intelligence or like education?", the saleswoman wanted to know and the man grunted almost disparagingly.  
"Education." He was probably here on someone's behalf.  
"Hmm. Well, this one is educated..."  
Another grunt. "No."  
"This one-"  
"No."  
The steps approached Dante, and then the crop tapped against his shoulder. "Fresh from the upper class."  
"Stand up," growled the man after a short hesitation, and Dante obeyed. After a moment, he turned once around himself and then stopped motionless again.  
His stomach growled.  
The man hummed wordlessly to himself.  
The saleswoman cleared her throat. "According to his records, he has been trained in all kinds of areas and-"  
"Can you drive?"  
"Yes, sir," Dante said coarsely; his mouth was terribly dry from thirst and he hadn't really spoken for days.  
"Even big ones?"  
"No trucks, but stretch limousines, sir," Dante replied, reaping an almost amused chuckle.  
"Can you take care of a household?"  
"Yes, sir." And then he was brave enough to clarify his answer without being asked: "I have always been a butler, chauffeur and bodyguard until now, sir."  
Now the man actually gave a short laugh. "What's the price?" Prices were not discussed in front of the slaves' ears and the transit-merchant and the man moved away.  
For a second, Dante raised his eyes. The man had to be in his mid-fifties, his almost black curls greying here and there. Perhaps he was not here on someone's behalf after all, but needed himself someone who could lend a hand. A free man who wanted to remain free and not be subordinate to a wife.

Dante stood there waiting, while the murmuring in the hall changed. The selling time was nearly over for today and the first traders began to shoo their goods into the rest areas.  
"Cleo! June!" The sharp voice of his saleswoman made Dante flinch. He saw her waving her hand impatiently and the two overseers hurried away - they knew what to do.  
"Come here!" The request was addressed to him, and he walked over to the merchant and his new master in the small steps the chains on his ankles allowed.  
"Don't worry, my friend, we provide all the sold slaves with comfortable clothing in which they can begin their journey to their new home," the saleswoman said in a confidential tone, and then pulled out a key to remove the chains.  
"Do I have to put new chains on you or are you behaving?" his master asked threateningly.  
"No chains necessary, master," Dante said quietly, not moving. One of the overseers - Dante didn't look up to know which one - brought him his backpack with his personal belongings and plain dark blue long-sleeved shirt and gray sweatpants; he had to keep those ridiculous panties on, for better or worse.

Dante had already been sold several times, but he was surprised how little paperwork a stopover at a transit-merchant meant. His new master took the papers, a small black pouch and then exchanged a few polite phrases.  
"May the Great Mother bring you good business," he said in farewell.  
"And to you, brother, and to you," replied the merchant. To any other woman these half-hearted words would have been disrespectful, but Dante's new master was a free man, and even a free man was below any woman, however low in ranking herself.  
"Come."  
Dante's stomach rumbled again as he followed his master. His feet were not used to walking barefoot- barely two weeks in the hands of a transit-merchant were not enough- and after the smooth planks of the platform, the rough concrete of the hall hurt. He remained half beside half behind his master, his gaze lowered.

Outside, the sun had already set, but the asphalt was still warm. To the left of the main entrance were several small snack bars, and their smell was like torture for Dante. Since he had been sold, he had been given nothing but cheap, uniform mash with little taste, and his stomach was again making a loud noise.  
"Are you hungry?"  
 _What an unnecessary question_ , he thought, but said humbly: "Yes, master."  
His master grunted and stepped to one of the stalls selling Hot Dogs and fries. "Two small menus."  
"Eight dollars," came the bored reply from the girl at the counter.  
"Come here, son. What's your name, anyway?"  
Hadn't his master read the papers? "Dante, master," Dante replied, hinting at a bow, and then stepped to the bar table where his master waved him over.  
A sigh, then: "I’m not your master. I bought you for my daughter. You may call me Blaise."  
"Yes, Blaise." Another sigh, but this time annoyed.  
Dante stared at the tabletop covered with ketchup drops and only raised his eyes when Blaise went back to the stall and came back with a loaded tray.  
"Eat."

Dante ate his hot dog and fries, but kept a third of the water in the small bottle. He was forced to wipe his hands on his pants. Blaise brought the tray back and then nodded at him.  
"Over there," he said, pointing to a puny bush, "go pee. The road is long."  
"Yes, Blaise." Dante nodded, and as he followed the order, he wondered how long this _long_ might be. He knew spoiled brats for whom five minutes of waiting was already endlessly long. As best as possible he shook the last drops off the penis and cage and then re-packed himself, with the hem of the panties snapping uncomfortably hard against his skin.  
Blaise had watched him with a frown and just nodded.  
They walked across the large parking lot, which was almost completely empty, to an unmarked blue truck. The door lock beeped and Blaise pulled open the driver's door.  
"Sit in the back on the bed."  
Dante swallowed, but did as he was told. The inside of the cabin was very clean, smelled faintly of lemon, and the narrow bed looked unused. It was softer than expected and Dante pushed his backpack into a corner while Blaise got in as well.  
"I'm going to send you to sleep," he announced and bent over for something. Seconds later he held an injection pen in his hand and twisted it somehow. "Oh, damn..." he murmured and slid very smoothly for his enormous stature behind the seat. "Lie down, shirt up. You'll sleep ten hours and then we'll be home soon."  
Dante nodded silently, lay down and pulled up his shirt. The needle hit him without disinfection on the side of his belly and he hissed because it hurt much more than expected. The injection pen also hissed until it clicked twice.  
Blaise retreated, flipped up a narrow grille so Dante couldn't fall out during the drive, and then lowered a barrier between the tiny sleeping area and the seats.  
Dante welcomed the artificial sleep, for since his former mistress had sold him, he had been electrified and restless. Now he had a new owner, but until he met her, he didn't have to worry about anything else - he knew how to behave. His eyes were already closed, but his ears twitched when it clicked, and when the heavy engine started, he shivered. But he didn't notice that Blaise was saying anything else.

~

When Dante awoke, the sun was already shining brightly and Blaise was humming just as cheerfully to a song from the radio.  
"Good morning, Blaise," he said politely and quietly so as not to startle Blaise.  
"Morning, son." Blaise clicked his tongue. "You slept longer than you thought. Another hour and we'll be there."  
Dante stretched until it cracked several times. Although he had to pee urgently, he drank the rest of the water from his bottle. "May I ask where my new home is?" he asked, trying to strike a humble tone. There seemed to be nothing but fields and small woods around the highway.  
"In all, not quite 400 miles from the glittering Denser's Port. Still 50 to go, I guess." Had they been driving all night, they would have been there by now, but Blaise had probably taken a break somewhere and thus a nap.

A few minutes later Blaise stopped at a rest stop and Dante was allowed to get out to pee, and he was given a croissant with chocolate cream in it- he had to eat it outside so he wouldn't get crumbs all over.  
"If you're asked, it was a dry roll," Blaise growled, and Dante suppressed a grateful smile.  
"Yes, Blaise."

They passed a small town and then again only endless fields and forests. At some point Dante caught sight of a sign announcing a town called _Townsend_ , but the distance was illegible. Again and again narrow, badly paved roads branched off to the left or right, and on one of them Blaise skillfully steered the big truck. On the left was a pasture with sheep, on the right a corn field. They passed a very artificial-looking woodland area and then Dante saw his new home: a huge farmhouse. The ground-floor was made of stone, the first floor of solid wood. In the background were several barns and before Dante could look around further Blaise stopped the truck as the asphalt turned into gravel and crushed stone.  
With knees softened by the excitement, Dante got out and grimaced as the sharp stones tore open his feet and he bit his lip in pain. To distract him, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and then flinched in surprise as Blaise pressed his documents into his hand. Blaise had said absolutely nothing, except that Dante now belonged to his daughter. That could mean anything and much of Dante's nervousness resulted from that very non-knowledge. Until now he had always known what to expect, but this was a damn _farm_! The Great Mother punished his incapacity severely.

The front door flew open and a small plump woman stepped on the wooden porch.  
" _Blaise_! You didn't-"  
"He's for Alice, Ma!" Blaise said firmly, and while the woman laughed barking, Dante raised his eyebrows in irritation. The woman was badly bleached and badly made up, but she didn't look like she could be Blaise's mother. Two little girls suddenly appeared behind her and stared curiously at Dante, but when one of them opened her mouth, the woman said sharply:  
"Go in." She didn't let her eyes off Dante while the girls obediently retreated. "Come here," she finally said, and carefully Dante walked the few meters over the painfully stinging gravel.  
"I'll bring the truck into town," Blaise said, waiting for no response, but seemed to swing right back inside.  
Arriving at the steps, Dante gently wiped his feet and then entered the porch. "Mistress," he said quietly, not knowing how to address her properly otherwise, bowing and handing her the documents.  
She snorted, but accepted the papers. **"Alice!"** she shouted into the house and Dante flinched. "Alice, get your ass over here!"  
There was a dull reply Dante didn’t understand. Nervously, he waited and swallowed dryly as footsteps approached.  
"What is it, Ma?" a young woman wanted to know and stepped out of the shadows inside into the light outside. A part of Dante registered _Ma_ as addressing for the older woman, while the far greater part of him caught Alice with one look and then fell to his knees. She was light blond, wearing a dark green long-sleeved dress over dark blue leggings and fluffy slippers, which Dante now stared at.  
"What is this?"  
"Honey, your father has brought you a surprise," said the woman smugly. "This handsome boy is all yours now."  
"What?" Mistress Alice made disbelieving.  
"You must finally learn to take responsibility." The tone of voice became harsh.  
"But Ma! I-"  
"Enough! Take good care of him, he was expensive."  
"Yes, Ma..." Mistress Alice sighed and the older woman- her mother?- disappeared with heavy steps into the house.  
Dante, filled with nervousness, clasped the shoulder strap of his backpack; he had a very bad feeling, which grew stronger the longer Mistress Alice seemed to look at his papers.  
Finally, she made a sound that was more of a growl than a sigh. "Fuck."


	2. New home, new faces, new rules

Dante knelt on the wooden porch, as tense as a bowstring.  
Mistress Alice stepped aside and he was already afraid she would simply leave him there alone, but she yelled, no less impressive than Ma before: **"Mikey!"** Then she turned to Dante: "Get up. Besides, you can look at me."  
He had just opened his mouth when she yelled for Mikey again, and when he stood, a teenager came running. He was wearing black shorts and a white t-shirt, was barefoot and so covered with spots that the daily shave had to be a torture. Dante had pity.  
"Miss Alice?"  
"You have permission to enter my room," said Mistress Alice seriously; it sounded like a ritual formula. "Prepare the slave room and a basket of things he needs in the bathroom."  
"Yes, Miss Alice." Mikey gestured a bow and scurried away.  
"Dante..." She seemed to taste his name and he looked her in the face. It was less round than Ma's, but there was a certain resemblance. She was almost unhealthily pale and her eyes glittered in a strange crystal blue. She was also surprisingly tall for a woman, only slightly shorter than Dante, but with a father like Blaise that was to be expected. Without the clearly angry expression she would have been extremely pretty.  
"I am your mistress," she finally said, and that too sounded like a ritual learned by heart. "You will address Ma and my sisters as _Miss_ and their name. Besides me you will obey Ma and Seth, the overseer of the house. You will leave the house only when you are asked to. In the basement and on the ground floor you can move freely, on the upper floor you will not enter any room without being asked to do so. Understand?"  
"Understood, mistress." He nodded.  
"Do you own any clothes?"  
"Only what I wear."  
"What about your collar?"  
"Standard tracking, accurate to within five meters."  
"No shock functions?"  
"No, mistress."  
"What about that silly rock?" She reached for his collar and frowned at the sapphire set in it.  
"A clause in my contract, mistress," Dante replied cautiously. "My mother is a Sapphire and has decreed that each of my collars must hold a sapphire."  
Mistress Alice snorted disparagingly. "Whims of the rich. But who cares..." She grabbed him by the chin and turned his face to the side, stroked her thumb over the small scar on his left cheek and grimaced a little more. "You stink."  
"Sorry, mistress." Not that he could really help it.  
She turned away and he followed her through a dusky, gloomy entrance hall to a sprawling staircase. On the upper floor the sunlight fell through the windows into a large open space full of toys. They made their way around to a sort of side wing and entered through an open door into a large bright room that seemed to be her living room, office and bedroom altogether.  
"Mikey?"  
"Yes, Miss, almost done," it sounded from the left of another door.  
Dante had stopped right by the entrance and tried not to look around curiously. He had never served a mistress so directly, so closely, and wanted to know who he was dealing with. Mistress Alice possessed an enormous number of books, he noticed at first. On her desk next to one of the windows were both a computer and a laptop, books piled up there and a large cup stood on a small wooden tray.  
"Miss Alice," someone behind Dante suddenly said, and he flinched. Another slave stood there, dressed the same way, but more in his mid-twenties, like Dante. He was holding a pile of towels in his hand and on top of it was a basket with shampoo and a razor.  
"Thank you, TJ," said Mistress Alice, and TJ bowed as he pressed the items into Dante's hand, clearly unimpressed.  
Mikey emerged from the other room, bowed as well and then the two of them disappeared, closing the door.  
"That's your room over there, that's the bathroom," Mistress Alice said, pointing to the respective doors. "Put your things down."  
"Yes, Mistress," he said quietly and did as commanded while she opened the door and called out for Mikey again. His feet ached, even though the wooden floor was pleasantly smooth, but the dull throb was forgotten as he entered his room.  
First of all: he had a room all to himself. It was tiny, but it was still his. Without a second bed for a roommate. On one side was a simple closet, between the bed and the barred window was a bedside table, nothing more, but it was enough. He put the things for the bathroom on the bed covered with light blue sheets and put his backpack on the floor, then he went back to his mistress.  
"Mikey will show you the house," she said simply, pointing to the boy who was standing in the doorway.  
"Yes, Mistress," Dante said, indicating a bow before following Mikey into the hall and closing the door behind him.

They examined each other.  
Dante knew he didn't make the best first impression, but so bad that it would have justified the brief contemptuous look on Mikey's face, it wasn't.  
Apart from the acne, Mikey seemed prone to chubbiness - so there was plenty to eat and maybe even regular sweet rewards - and his dark blond hair stood out strangely in all directions. Besides his collar he wore a slave bracelet on his left arm, its plain black was decorated with silver ornaments.  
"I’m Mikey," he said and Dante nodded.  
"Dante."  
"Up here you are only allowed to enter the rooms of your mistress," Mikey said seriously and started to move. "In this closet"- he patted one in passing- "you'll find towels and bedding. Ignore the toys and preferably the children, too, or you'll get into a lot of trouble very quickly." They stepped through the minefield of toys and then went down to the ground floor.

This was the beginning of the tour through the big farmhouse and Dante was amazed. He had lived in a world of luxury, but the furnishings of the house seemed to represent a completely different class of luxury.  
Rustic, heavy, dark, comfortable. Unique pieces, paintings, handicrafts. There were no marble floors and gold-plated statuettes, no diamond-studded knick-knacks and polished chrome. He knew of extensive apartments, but the house was... huge.  
The kitchen equipment could have been found in a star restaurant. There was a large empty room that was furnished differently depending on the occasion. The dining room had a long table for the family and a kneeling table for the house slaves - so they ate together. The basement was full of storage rooms and small rooms for the work slaves. There was a laundry room, a big common bathroom and a large lounge. He was honestly overwhelmed and yet he had not seen the outside area at all.

"Where is everybody?" he wanted to know when they went back into the entrance hall - they hadn't met anyone.  
"Daniel is in town with Miss Sarah. Blaise is bringing the truck into town. Miss Britney and Ethan are taking care of the children. Frank is working. I don't know what the others are doing," Mikey replied, shrugging. He hesitated and Dante raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I don't know if I can give you some fresh clothes, but it would be better if you took a shower anyway. A-and I don't know if you are allowed or not, but we house slaves usually prepare the food all together."  
"How about I just ask my mistress for it?" Dante suggested, as if it wasn't the most obvious thing to do.  
Mikey's nose twitched. "Miss Alice _hates_ to be disturbed at work."  
"I’m her personal slave."  
"Your risk." Mikey shrugged. "Whatever she says, you'll find me in the kitchen." He walked away and Dante sighed.  
For a moment he remained indecisive, then he went up to Mistress Alice's room and entered directly after a knock. Bold - but after all, there was his own sleeping place as well.  
She looked up with a gloomy expression. "What is it?"  
"I would like to ask if I may take a shower in the slave quarters and then help with the preparations for lunch, Mistress."  
Astonished, she blinked at him. "You are a house slave." That didn't really help him. "Of course. Go on," she then added, rolling her eyes.  
"Thank you, mistress." He bowed with the impression that Mistress Alice was best not to tangle with.  
  
~

The water was only lukewarm, shampoo and shower gel smelled pleasantly of nothing, but he finally felt clean again after days of sponge bath. He would shave in peace tomorrow. The towel was a little scratchy and he was deeply reluctant to put back on his horrible panties, but he didn't have any other underwear and he didn't want to walk around without. His feet had also thanked him for the cleaning and when he took a look in the mirror, he could even smile at himself. Under his green eyes were deep dark circles and his black hair stuck wet to his head, but with a smile even the dark beard stubble was more attractive than unkempt. He went to the kitchen, hoping that there would be something to eat very soon, because apart from the croissant in the morning he had had nothing.

In the kitchen he met Mikey and TJ, as well as an already strongly greying man, who looked a bit ridiculous in the probably usual shorts and t-shirt.  
"Ah, you are Dante. What can you do?" he asked without beating about the bush.  
"Serve," Dante replied promptly. "Among other things, I was a butler."  
"Show me." The man took a stack of plates from a cupboard and pointed to them. Without hesitation, Dante stepped closer, skillfully placed four plates on his left arm and took a fifth in his right hand.  
The man nodded. "Then from now on you will do exactly that. _Serve_. Can you cook?"  
"Basics." Dante put the plates back down.  
In the background Mikey and TJ were busy peeling potatoes.  
The man nodded again. "I’m Seth, the overseer of the house. As long as Miss Alice does not need you and Mistress Carolyn does not give you a task, you will get tasks from me."  
Dante nodded. "Yes, Seth." Seth seemed serious, stern, but surely, he was fair. At least that's what Dante hoped for.  
"If you have any questions that you cannot or don’t want to ask Miss Alice, I am here for you."  
"Thank you."

~

For lunch, Dante had learned, the family members helped themselves from pots and bowls directly at the table. He placed a bowl of cooked carrot slices on a trivet and then stood next to Mikey against the wall, hands behind his back.  
Seth had already struck a heavy gong and the children- Maisie, her little brother Jack and her cousin Jessy (he couldn't tell which girl was who) - stormed up first, followed by a slave and a woman, both in their mid-thirties. While the slave stood beside Dante without a word or greeting, the woman verbosely rebuked the children. It had to be Britney, who with her small roundish stature and the dark wild curls united both parents expressively.  
Miss Carolyn and Mistress Alice appeared next and almost simultaneously Miss Sarah, who rubbed her round baby belly with a tired face, and Daniel, her personal slave and father of her soon to be three children. He lovingly led her to her seat and then joined the others on the wall. In the kitchen they had mainly talked about Sarah and her difficult pregnancy. She was tall and blond like Mistress Alice, but had the angular face and broad shoulders of Blaise.  
Said one burst in in the same moment and gave Miss Carolyn a kiss on the crown before falling heavily onto a chair. "Met the Braddock family," he said, nodding indefinitely into the round. "They want to come over before the corn harvest."  
"Hmm." Miss Carolyn did, apparently unenthusiastically. "Where is my son?"  
"I'm here, Ma," it answered almost immediately from the doorway, in a deep but humble voice. A younger copy of Blaise entered, and the way he held himself, Dante almost expected to see a slave collar, but the young man's neck was covered only in dirty sweat. He bowed deeply to his mother before sitting down.  
Miss Carolyn flicked- the sign that the slaves were allowed to sit or rather kneel, too.  
Unpleasantly, Seth assigned Dante a place to kneel with his back to the big table.  
"Alice, the grace," Miss Carolyn said to Dante's next big surprise, and the six slaves reached out their hands to each other.  
Mistress Alice cleared her throat. "We thank the Great Mother for the earth on which we grow our crops and keep our animals. We thank the Great Mother for every day we do not have to suffer hunger. We thank the Great Mother for being able to sit together at the table here and now."

~

Mistress Alice's direct order had prevented Dante from clearing the dishes with the others, so he followed her into her room.  
"Undress," she said, before he even closed the door.  
He took a deep breath, turned to her and then pulled the shirt over his head. He had thought he had already lost most of his shame, but when he took off his sweatpants and her eyes fell on his panties and she raised an eyebrow in surprise, his cheeks became hot. And when he also took off the panties and threw them on the pile of cloth, she snorted in amusement.  
"A pink cage? Is this another one of the rich people's whims?"  
"No." He lowered his eyes, his hands clasped behind his back. "If you ask for my medical file, you'll read there that I'm considered impotent. Mistress."  
For a long moment, it was silent.  
"Are you?"  
"I don't know, mistress."  
"How can you not know?"  
Anger flashed inside him and he barely held back a snort. "I have worn a cage since I was 11 years old. As I'm unresponsive to artificial stimulants, I was judged unfit for bedroom duty. So far only two mistresses have tried it. An ancient skeleton and a fat ugly one. It should come as no surprise that nothing happened." He couldn't prevent him from sounding a little bitter, and Mistress Alice laughed quietly, but quickly turned back to serious.  
"I remember why I think cages are counterproductive for teenagers. A healthy development of the male body looks different." She gave a strange snort, and he looked up. She turned the key to his cage between her fingers and then nodded. "I will take the cage from you. Permanently. But that doesn't mean I'm throwing it away - it will be part of your punishments."  
"Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress." He nodded hurriedly and was strangely emotional when she said gently:  
"Give your body a chance to recover and then get to know yourself." Her fingers also moved very carefully.  
"What... what if I cannot serve in the bedroom, mistress?" he wanted to know a little worried and she shook her head.  
"I don't require that kind of service from you."  
"Oh."  
"Disappointed?"  
"No! No, I mean..." Under her strange gaze, measuring and at the same time disinterested, he lost his words. She had not wanted a slave at all, he recalled.  
"Tomorrow we'll go in town and get you some decent clothes. Can you live without underwear until then or do you want to put this embarrassment back on?"  
"I renounce, mistress." No sooner had he said that than she already turned away and carelessly threw the cage with the key on her desk.  
"Get dressed and then go to Seth and make yourself useful."


	3. A smooth start

_'Making yourself useful'_ initially consisted of spending hours cleaning the windows on the ground floor with TJ. As in the kitchen, TJ happily babbled on, gossiped and prattled about people Dante didn't know but, according to TJ, would soon meet. The last time Dante had to clean windows was when he was a teenager, and when they finally finished, he was not very happy about the prospect of having to do it regularly. Everything about him was kind of wet and his fingers were all bloated.  
"You weren't so bad," TJ then noted and threw all the rags and sponges in one of the buckets. "At least for a spoiled luxury slave." His condescending tone was tempered by a cheerful wink, and Dante wrung a smile from himself.

Even before he could go looking for Seth afterwards, he was found by Seth himself and got a big basket pressed into his hand- for the dirty laundry. It was Seth who collected the laundry from the rooms, and Dante could not see more than tiny sections of the interior. With two fully loaded baskets they went down to the basement and Dante was explained the sorting system for the washing- he had never had to worry about that either. The washing machine's display showed a remaining time of 15 minutes and Dante almost expected them to make good use of the time, but Seth just looked at him for a long moment.  
"You can ask questions," he finally said.  
"Do you have any tips for me? Rules? Laws? Dos and don'ts?" To his words Dante made a somewhat helpless gesture and Seth smiled weakly.  
"Obey your mistress."  
Dante grimaced. "No kidding."  
"Do not cross Mistress Carolyn. Do not talk about Mistress Charlotte or Anthony. Avoid the workers. Don't leave the house unless you have a good reason."  
Dante raised an eyebrow. "Why should I avoid the workers? How many are there anyway? What's the matter with these persons which are not spoken about?"  
"There are 14 work slaves at the moment, Blaise acts as their overseer. Apart from Adam and Douglas, they're a rough bunch." Seth tilted his head in a strange way and Dante waited. He had guessed that work slaves didn't have the best manners, but nevertheless he would have to come down here often just for the laundry.  
"Mistress Charlotte was Mistress Carolyn's mother," Seth then went on very quietly and gave Dante a warning look. "A tyrant. Remember this if you think Mistress Carolyn is hard or unfair."  
Dante nodded briefly, though there were many households with this kind of story. _'Do not complain about your mistress, it could be much worse.'_ Blah, blah, blah.  
"Anthony... is Miss Alice's twin brother. He is deceased. Especially to her, you shouldn't mention him."  
Dante nodded again, this time he meant it. "Is there anything else I should know that's urgent?"  
Now it was up to Seth to shrug. "Most things will come in time. Obedience and diligence."  
Into Dante's sighing the washing machine beeped and although the display still showed a green 6, Seth opened the door with verve and pulled out heavy work clothes.

For a new load of laundry, Dante got the washing machine explained, the various bottles of detergent and then followed Seth upstairs and out into the garden. Right next to the house there was an extended terrace with seating furniture, surrounded by flowers and herbs. There was a large section of meadow with half a playground, and on one side there were long clotheslines on which two or three loads of washing machine were already hanging. Behind it was a huge fenced-in vegetable garden. There were large barns and low stables, garages and a large water tank.  
"I see you are impressed," Seth remarked with an audible smile and Dante nodded silently. The sheep seemed to graze among some fruit trees, but he had no idea about such things. He probably couldn't name most of what landed on his plate in its original state. "Where are you from?"  
"Denser's Port," Dante murmured, watching two men each dragging two buckets of something from the vegetable garden.  
Seth gave an astonished whistle and Dante turned to him; he had already hung half the laundry.  
"Haven't you ever been to a bigger city?"  
"Bigger than Townsend around the corner? Only two or three times. Westshire. But that's an industrial town and not very exciting, unless you need new machines."  
Dante nodded thoughtfully and tried to do the same as Seth, smoothing the clothes with just a sharp movement of his hand so that you could hang them up without any problems. It wasn't really working.  
"So... you were a butler. What else?"  
"Butler, bodyguard, chauffeur... all rolled into one." Dante shrugged half-heartedly and Seth examined him from head to toe.  
"When Miss Alice takes you shopping, you should mention it. Then she'll definitely buy you a few more things to show off about when the Braddock’s come, for example."  
Dante nodded simply. He didn't feel nearly prepared for what would be expected of him here, but there was already a certain chaos of new impressions in his head that was growing and demanding more attention.

~

"What are you lazing around for?"  
The sharp voice made Dante, who had laid his head on his arms for two minutes, wince so violently that he almost fell off his chair.  
"Miss Britney," Seth immediately said, "I allowed Dante to rest for a moment. Your father has sent him artificially to sleep for the ride and I don't think he takes it well."  
The adrenaline whipped Dante awake and when Miss Britney snorted in annoyance, he fell to his knees in haste before her. "I'm sorry, Miss Britney."  
"Of course you're sorry. You're a spoiled brat from the city. What did you do there all day? Standing around looking pretty?"  
"Among other things, yes," he answered honestly.  
"Well, I guess you'll learn here what the word _work_ means." She laughed quietly and spitefully and then grabbed him by the chin. "You'll be useless to Alice for the first few weeks..." Her eyes sparkled dangerously in the bright light of the kitchen and Dante murmured out of habit:  
"Yes, Miss."  
She snorted again and let him go. "The boys are about to bring in today's harvest. See that you get as much as you can processed as soon as possible."  
"Yes, miss." muttered Dante, along with Seth, Mikey and TJ in chorus. He didn't get up until after Miss Britney had left the kitchen and looked at Seth, who sighed.  
"I should have expected it, I'm sorry. Miss Britney is in charge of the kitchen and comes over frequently just like that."  
Dante simply nodded.

But shortly afterwards, Dante slipped back into a sluggish automatism, interrupted only by the task of serving the food. With long-trained elegance and lightness, he brought the four ladies of the house their plates and announced the menu - given the fact that there was only one main course followed by a simple dessert, this was perhaps exaggerated, but Miss Carolyn smiled contentedly. When the others appeared with the rest of the plates, she said to Seth:  
"Obviously you too can learn something from young lads."  
"You never finish learning, mistress," he said surprisingly gentle and bowed.

The rest rushed past Dante as well, he barely tasted his food, carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen as if by remote control, and then found himself in Mistress Alice's rooms. A little irritated at himself, he blinked and flinched as she sighed.  
"You look terrible."  
"I'm sorry, mistress..."  
"How long did Pa send you to sleep?"  
"Te-ten hours..." He stumbled over his own tongue and she sighed again.  
"What a fool. You shouldn't go over eight." Her form was a colorful blur that suddenly became sharp and appeared right in front of him. She frowned. "Go to bed before you fall over. I've taken some of Frank's things..."  
He nodded while the rest of her words passed by. "Thank you, mistress," he murmured and staggered into his room. Clumsy, he cleared the bathroom things on the floor and then peeled off his clothes. In the loose shorts he felt immensely liberated and for a moment he wondered where his cage had gone to, but the thought slipped his mind. The t-shirt was clearly too big, but it was clean and soft and in general... Seconds later the only thing that counted anyway was the soft bed and the warm blanket.

~

A haunting, albeit strangely muffled beeping tore Dante from his sleep. Disoriented, he looked around until his gaze fell on his backpack - he reached for it and pulled out his alarm clock, which must have activated itself at some point. He quickly turned it off and then, with a sigh, placed it on the bedside table - it was six in the morning.  
And then the memories crashed back into place with all their might. He gasped for breath and almost knocked the alarm clock to the floor. On a farm the day began early, didn't it?  
Hurriedly he slipped out of bed, stumbled in the dark over his carelessly thrown things on the ground and then paused. Slowly he pulled his shorts down and palpated himself. No cage. _No! Cage!_ He giggled a little silly, but he didn't really have time for that now. He slipped into yesterday's sweatpants and shirt and then opened the door to mistress Alice's room. She was still asleep. For a moment he tried to remember if she had said anything on the subject, but nothing came to his mind, so he tiptoed out and sneaked down to the ground floor.  
There was a tiny bathroom there, with only a toilet and sink for the slaves- he was afraid to wake Mistress Alice by the sound of water. That was one of the things that certainly provoked a bad mood, and he couldn't use that.

Since Mikey had told him that he could help himself to breakfast without any problems, the second way of the day led him to the kitchen. He would have been satisfied with cornflakes, but opened several cupboards without success - there were simply far too many of them.  
"Looking for something?"  
Dante winced and banged his head on an open cupboard door.  
Frank was standing in the door, already dressed in heavy work clothes, and indeed he seemed shy.  
"Good morning, sir. I wanted to-"  
"Frank will do." The young man smiled for a tiny moment. "Will you join me for breakfast?" That sounded... strange. Curious, and yet with the fear that the answer was _no_. "Pa always has breakfast downstairs, but it's too noisy for me. But up here it's lonely so early."  
Surprised, Dante said: "I wanted breakfast too. But I can't find any cereal or bowls."  
Frank giggled- it seemed strangely childish- and came closer. "Don't you like scrambled eggs?"  
"Yes, but- Oh. How many eggs are in your portion?" He remembered which closet the pans were stacked in.  
"Five. But you don't have to do this, I can do it myself." Frank shook his head and Dante ducked to the side as large calloused hands passed him by. Cups and glasses appeared in the open closet.  
"But that's my job, Frank. To care for the members of this household and-"  
"You care for Alice. I can do that alone. Do you drink coffee?"  
"No, thanks. I mean..." Dante was confused. Frank sounded less dismissive than more like a child who was proud of being able to do things on his own.  
"This here is my cup. It used to have my name on it." Frank held a green cup in his hand and Dante nodded silently. "Two spoons of sugar. Then a small coffee. And then a large one." Frank pointed to the coffee machine, which was in an alcove, and Dante nodded again. Gently he took Frank's cup and turned to the drawer with the cutlery. "Would you like scrambled eggs or not?" Frank then wanted to know and tore open the refrigerator.  
Dante paused, hesitantly saying: "I don't want anyone to think I'm lazy or-"  
"Nonsense. Three or four?"  
"What? No! No, two is plenty."  
Unimpressed, Frank took eight eggs from a bowl and Dante deliberately closed his mouth. Frank was obviously a very special case. Instead, he took care of the coffee.

"Aren't the others coming for breakfast?", he finally wanted to know, when a little later Frank divided the scrambled eggs- which now resembled more of an omelet due to the addition of plenty of diced bacon and cheese- between two plates.  
"Later," was the short answer.  
They sat down opposite each other at one of the smaller tables, and a little uncomfortable, Dante began to eat.  
"I really don't want to give the wrong impression," he said quietly and Frank shook his head.  
"You don't. The pan doesn't tell Britney who stirred in it, and I want company, so I have company." That sounded very strange again, but Dante nodded. Frank was like Blaise tall and broad and strong, but up close his features seemed softer and his gaze warmer.  
When they were finished and Dante put the plates aside to put them in the dishwasher, which he had to clear out first, Frank gave him a smile.  
"Thanks for breakfast." An irritating childlike innocence lay in his angular face and before Dante could say anything, he already added: "Morning, Daniel. How's Sarah?"  
"She's still asleep," Daniel replied with a tired smile, and then Frank was gone.  
"Morning," Dante said automatically and Daniel's face distorted into something that was probably pity.  
"Bad first night or just confused?"  
"The latter." Looking at Daniel, Dante groped for the handle of the dishwasher.  
"I hear you're from a big city. Then I guess it's not surprising." Daniel nodded to his own words and stepped to the cupboard with the cups.  
Actually, Dante wanted to ask him about Frank, but for one thing he wasn't sure how to phrase the question, and for another, Ethan and TJ came in, hissing quietly but definitely angry.  
"You changed the beds yesterday," Ethan spat, and TJ hissed back:  
"And you ironed the sheets last week!"  
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Was there a crease in the wrong place? Did Jessy complain again?" he mocked and Ethan growled:  
"Shut up."  
"What are you so upset about?" TJ apparently punched the same notch. "She's not your daughter."  
Before Ethan's renewed growl could translate into words, Dante asked aloud:  
"Can anyone tell me how Mistress Alice likes her breakfast?"  
All three turned to him. All three looked at him as if he were a ghost.  
"What? I was only asking."  
After a moment, Ethan sighed annoyed and tore open a small closet. "Here. In these two tea tins are the teas she likes. Take it to her and then ask her what to do."  
"She usually does it all herself, you know..." Daniel said, then he mercifully showed Dante where he found the rest of the tea accessories.

~

"Dante...?"  
"Good morning, Mistress," Dante said quietly as Mistress Alice gave a strange groan and reached for the switch of the bedside lamp. He was kneeling in front of her bed- which was worse: standing for hours as a butler or kneeling for hours as a personal slave, a household could discuss this for days- and gave her a cautious smile as she looked at him sleepily. "I have brought tea, mistress."  
"Thank you..." she murmured and rubbed her eyes. "You don't look as if you've been to the bathroom," she remarked.  
"I didn't mean to wake you with the water rushing, mistress."  
"Laudable thought, but not justified. Shave, take a shower..." - she was interrupted by a yawn- "and then we'll have breakfast."  
"I have had breakfast, mistress."  
"That's okay... Go."  
He rose and got his things for the bathroom before entering it. It was bathed in a grayish sky blue, small but quite adequate. He needed a shave badly, but he hurried up with it and got into the shower - the hot water was a dream. His arms and shoulders, which felt the hours of window cleaning, relaxed and his hand slipped- still a little incredulous- into his crotch. For the last fifteen years, this damn cage had been taken off only every few days for washing under supervision (which was pointless if he was considered impotent, but it was probably a matter of principle). If he didn't fall asleep as soon as he saw the bed tonight, he would deal with it. Again a silly giggle escaped him.

~

The little red car seemed to rush across the road much faster than the truck, but maybe that was just imagination.  
"Mistress?" Dante ventured a push as they approached Townsend after a half hour's drive.  
"Hmm?"  
"Seth told me to tell you that I used to-"  
"Ah. Butler, chauffeur, bodyguard. Yes. I read your file."  
From the quick glance he got, he involuntarily straightened up.  
"Ma gave me money for your outfit. If you're really good, like you indicated yesterday..." She didn't finish the sentence.  
"I will try my best, mistress."  
"I hope so for your sake," she returned coolly.  
The well-known nervousness when a new Mistress made a threat and was very obviously very serious about it, crept into Dante's stomach and his upright posture stiffened.

A few minutes later she parked and led him to a clothing store whose illuminated letters announced that there was a suitable outfit for every slave.  
"Good morning, Sister," greeted the saleswoman politely.  
"Good morning, Sister," greeted Mistress Alice back.  
"House slave or work slave?", the saleswoman wanted to know and Mistress Alice gave a thoughtful sigh.  
"Do you have a survey for me?"  
"Of course, sister." The saleswoman handed Mistress Alice a kind of thin catalog, and Dante's nervousness crawled between his shoulder blades to settle there as an itch. Mistress Alice didn't say he was a house slave.  
She didn't say anything else that might give him a clue, but clapped the catalog on the counter after a few minutes and pointed to various illustrations. The eyes of the saleswoman grew larger and larger and Dante's nervousness grew as well.  
"Undress," Mistress Alice finally ordered and the saleswoman approached with a tape measure.  
Quickly he took off his shirt and trousers; he didn't miss the brief twitching of the saleswoman's eyebrows when she saw him without a cage, but wordlessly she took a few measurements and then nodded.  
"We have most of it in stock, it will only take a fewminutes. We will deliver the rest in a few days."  
"Give him directly a standard set and the shoes."  
"Of course, sister." The saleswoman nodded and started typing around on her computer.  
Mistress Alice, however, stepped up to Dante and said quietly: "You are an expensive slave in every way."  
He lowered his eyes and clasped his hands behind his back, but when she tugged sharply on his collar, he looked at her again.  
"I expect you to be worth your price."  
"I will try my best, mistress," he repeated his words from before and tried to sound even more serious, even more honest. Her gaze bored into his and he swallowed hard. In Denser's Port he had had a reputation among the slaves for often being bolder than was good for him, but in situations like these he was like everyone else and prayed not to catch his mistress on the wrong foot.  
The saleswoman's throat-clearing saved him and he quickly slipped into the comfortable boxer briefs and the black shorts and white t-shirt she handed him, which were common on the farm. In addition, he was given simple but robust, cream-colored cloth shoes.  
"Thank you, mistress," he said and bowed.  
She nodded hardly noticeably.  
"What name shall I save the data in?", the saleswoman wanted to know and handed Mistress Alice her card back.  
"Dante Sapphire," Dante replied, while at the same moment his mistress said:  
"Dante Mitchell." They looked at each other, her lips twitching. "Fucking upper class," she muttered, barely audible, and then said sourly: "Dante Sapphire-Mitchell." In the upper class his name was worth something, but here it was obviously just an annoying detail - normally a slave wore the last name of his household, no matter where he came from.  
"All right."  
An uncomfortable silence ensued until an elderly slave appeared from a doorway, holding five large bags in his hand, and bowed deeply before Mistress Alice.  
"Dante, take your stuff."  
"Yes, Mistress." Even before he could reach for the bags, she turned to leave, and after he bowed slightly towards the saleswoman, he hurried after her.

But instead of going back to the car, Mistress Alice walked with long steps along the street until they reached a drugstore.  
"You are not used to walking barefoot, are you?" she asked as she stepped through the front door.  
"No, Mistress." Without socks, shoes were uncomfortable, but it was definitely better than barefoot; still, his feet hurt.  
She grabbed a little basket and then he fell into bodyguard mode.  
He hardly noticed what she put into the basket, but rather eyed a bitter looking slave who wore an unusual collar and whose arms were full of scars. Only when the cashier winked happily at Mistress Alice wishing her _'a lot of fun'_ did his attention flicker to her shopping and he just saw the slave, who was packing the things, put a pack of condoms as the last item in the bag. Although she had said she didn't want to use his services in this respect, his discomfort now reached a new level.  
"New toy," Mistress Alice said to the cashier, returning the cheerful wink before accepting the bag from the slave and then stuffing it on top of a garment bag without further ado.

Silently they went back to the car and after Dante had stowed the bags in the trunk, Mistress Alice handed him the car keys.  
He reached for them, but she didn't let go.  
"I didn't want a personal slave and I don't need one. You may bring me tea in the morning and then have breakfast with me- and then you will leave my sight. I want to work in peace and I don't need anyone sitting next to me with glassy eyes waiting to wipe a crumb from my chin." Her voice was hard, and Dante said quietly:  
"Understood, mistress." Well, apparently, he was more of a house slave than a personal slave.  
"Very well. Be good and we'll get along splendidly."  
  
  


He spent almost the entire rest of the day in the kitchen, working with TJ- whose babbling was already getting on his nerves- and processing loads of peas and green beans.  
When he staggered into his room late at night, his fingers were so sore from the unusual movements that exploring the area below the belt was out of the question. After he turned on the tiny ceiling light, he hesitated. On his bedside table were bottles which hadn't stood there before. A little curious, he picked up the largest tube and had to smile: ointment for the feet. Hand cream. Lubricant.  
His smile went out. For a reason he could not put into words, the lubricant made him nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long boring chapter, I know. But in the next one will be a bit more of action, promise.


	4. Hierarchies exist everywhere - and usually you start at the very bottom

Dante dipped the brush into the bucket of water and grimaced when a splash hit him next to the eye. His hands were bloated and aching, his back and knees ached no less. He had just put the brush back on the floorboards when, with a cheerful shriek, five-year-old Jack ran through the banquet room, followed by Maisie and Jessy. The naked children's feet left prints and a few blades of grass and Dante swallowed hard instead of calling after them, what was furious laying on the tip of his tongue.   
The Mistress, in whose possession he had learned to drive, had made him wipe one of her rooms for every mistake and curse, no matter how quiet, during the driving lessons. Even weeks after he had passed his driving exam, he had swung the mop every day and bit his tongue. He had hated it, but marble, tiles and sealed parquet were a joke compared to the floorboards he had in front of him.   
_"Make yourself useful,"_ he repeated Mistress Alice's words from breakfast, mimicking her dismissive tone. With a groan he threw the brush into the water bucket and stretched his back, which cracked twice.   
Why couldn't his mistress be a bit more like her brother? Frank had told him cheerfully at breakfast that he and Tom were taking care of the wood that was being cut in the forests of the area. He had told him about the tree house that he, Tom and Blaise had built for the children in the spring. Mistress Alice, on the other hand, had merely told at her breakfast that the bread was baked early in the morning by a slave from the Washingtons next door and then two loaves were brought over. The day before, she had explained to him how to prepare the hazelnut and spice cream that she ate on the bread in the morning, but Dante still didn't know what kind of work she spent her day with.

He sighed, put the brush back on the wood, and then paused as footsteps sounded behind him.   
"Carry on," Miss Carolyn snorted, and he began scrubbing. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she sat down on one of the sofas standing on the wall, now watching him in turn.   
Seth had said that in a few days the Braddocks would be coming by and that the house would have to be presentable for that. And because Dante was the newcomer, the most unpleasant tasks fell to him. Scrubbing floors was not complicated.   
"Let me guess, you've never scrubbed floorboards before." Miss Carolyn's subliminally amused voice made him raise his head.   
"No, Miss."   
She tilted her head. "I've seen you clean the windows," she said after a moment, still slightly amused. "Can you actually do anything that's useful here?"   
"It is not for me to judge whether I am useful or not," Dante replied, obviously taking a wrong tone, for Miss Carolyn's face distorted in annoyance.   
"Come here!"   
He stood up and wiped his hands on his shorts as he walked, before kneeling down before her.   
"Did I tell you to kneel?" she snapped.   
_No, but I was taught not to look down on a mistress_ , he muttered mentally and rose again, his hands clasped behind his back, head and gaze lowered.   
"Believe me, boy, soon you will wish you had left your pride in Denser's Port," she said smugly, and Dante's gaze twitched involuntarily to her face. "What did I say?" She smiled and before Dante could even flinch, her hand jerked towards his privates and squeezed.   
He tried to hold still, but an oppressive feeling quickly spread through his chest as she groped him.   
Her fingers slid further to his anus, finding _nothing_ there either, and gave his balls another too-tight squeeze before she let her hand slide from his knee up under his shorts and scratched his thigh with her fingernails. A pout, which could have been attractive and erotic on another, younger woman, now appeared on her face. She had a husband. She owned Seth and Mikey and TJ and basically every one of the workers, but here she was sitting and groping her daughter's property.   
A flash of emotion close to fear made his breath hitch briefly as she began to caress his penis, and her eyes sparkled.   
"Don't get your hopes up, boy. Alice will not invite you into her bed," she purred, and then she pulled on his penis as if it were a lamp cord.   
He hissed in pain and then almost panicked when she leaned back and smiled at him. She wouldn't...? Here, where at any moment the children could run along again...?   
"Carry on."   
Suddenly he was very happy to be allowed to scrub the floors.

~

Classical music was softly drifting out of Mistress Alice's room as Dante slipped into bed. He was tired and actually everything hurt him, but... Miss Carolyn's presumptuous touch still burned on his skin and he wanted to overwrite it.   
He pulled the blanket up to his chin and then pushed the pajama bottoms down. Carefully, slowly, almost shyly, he touched and caressed himself, something he had never had the opportunity to do before. He closed his eyes, breathed slowly and consciously, let the soft sounds from the next room accompany him and tried to fathom which touches felt different than _neutral_. But even the rest of his body didn't know any soft touches and so the other hand went over his thighs, stomach, chest, neck, sometimes scratching, sometimes gently, he played with his nipple and imagined a beautiful woman watching him excitedly, coming over to him, bending over him to kiss him...   
Nothing.   
Not even the hint of a twitch.   
Frustrated, he pulled his pants back up and turned over on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. There he had this tiny bit of freedom and it was of no use to him.

~

The alarm clock rang and with a groan Dante turned around, turned off the alarm and then paused. Something was different, and by that he did not mean the rain, which came down pattering heavily (Great Mother, the laundry!). But because he couldn't see anything in the dark, he turned on the bedside lamp and then looked at his morning glory in amazement.   
"The reaction comes quite late," he muttered to himself, brushing along with a fingertip. "I can't use you right now."

Richer for the experience that peeing with a morning boner ranged somewhere between impossible and unpleasant, he entered the kitchen and had just taken Frank's cup out of the cupboard when he entered.   
"Hello, Frank."   
"Good morning!" Frank beamed despite the early hour and went straight to the refrigerator, while Dante stepped to the coffee machine.   
"Slept well?" Dante wanted to know and Frank hummed in agreement.   
"I like rain. Well, I like that sound, you know, when I can be inside." The bowl with the eggs in his hand, he looked to the window where the rain was slowly fading.   
The coffee machine clicked and clacked as it awoke, and Dante spooned the sugar into Frank's cup.   
"But I don't like to be outside when it rains," Frank added grumpy with a little delay to his statement. He sounded as if he had just been told that he couldn't change the weather and had not yet overcome this defeat. It occurred to Dante that he still hadn't asked what was wrong with Frank.   
"I don't like rain," he said and pressed a button.   
"Why not?", Frank wanted to know.   
"You get wet," Dante explained seriously and had to smile involuntarily when Frank laughed honestly.   
"Cold and wet," Frank confirmed, and Dante nodded.

The omelet was almost eaten when Blaise appeared in the doorway. When he saw Dante, he began to grin, but he turned to Frank.   
"I hope you weren't planning on getting the wood today."   
"No, tomorrow," Frank replied with a full mouth.   
"Good." Blaise nodded.   
"Good morning," Dante said quietly and a little uneasy.   
"Everything okay, Pa?" Frank then wanted to know with a fine frown, and to Dante's surprise, Blaise entered the kitchen.   
"Sure," he said gently and, to Dante's even greater surprise, pressed a kiss on Frank's head, winking at Dante as he did so.   
Dante felt the blood rush to his face, though it was good to know that Miss Carolyn had remembered her husband. However, Frank was also surprised and critically looked at Blaise, who was ruffling through his hair.   
"Let me be in a good mood for once."   
"It's raining, Pa."   
"I know, kiddo, but we're not made of sugar."   
Frank pouted, which absolutely didn't fit his face and made Blaise laugh.   
It was a very strange feeling to be practically involved in this expression of affection, and when Blaise left, Dante quickly lowered his eyes to his plate. The Sapphire family had several women who could have been his mother, but he had never met any of them and didn't know her first name either- he had never been allowed to look at his papers. Now that he saw such a loving father-son relationship, he wondered if his father's name was even in his documents, or just as some code in some medical files.   
"Hrmph," Frank made and Dante raised his head.   
"Hmm?"   
"I have to go out."   
"You heard your father: you're not made of sugar."   
With a skeptical look, Frank bit his finger probing. "True. A pity, really."   
Dante couldn't help but giggle and Frank smiled.

~

The rest of the day gave Dante no reason to smile, because Seth and Miss Britney kept chasing him around the house. Even when he went to the bathroom, he was barely finished when Miss Britney was already banging on the door accusing him of laziness.   
When it happened again just before dinner, he stepped out into the hallway with his hands still wet from washing them and looked at Miss Britney, who was showing a pinched expression.   
"Miss Britney, I had a psychological bladder voiding disorder as a child and I don't want it to happen again," he said seriously. More than embarrassing memories that he hoped never to have to face again.   
"Shall we put a permanent bladder catheter in you?" she asked mockingly and he let his face go blank- he knew that under the right circumstances it would make him look dangerous.   
"No. I just want more than 20 seconds to answer nature's call. Miss."   
"Twenty-one," she returned and gave him a hard pat on the ass. "And now back to work."

With his eyes closed, Dante washed his hands and longed for his bed.   
Suddenly, Seth took a sharp breath. "Who brought out the laundry earlier?"   
There was no answer.   
"TJ?"   
"I haven't touched a washing machine today," he said strained- he was cracking walnuts.   
"Mikey?"   
"I only turned on one earlier," was the cautious answer.   
"Dante?"   
"I hung up the sheets earlier," he replied, drying his hands. When he turned to Seth, he got a critical look.   
"Did you turn on a new machine?"   
"No. None of the baskets were full enough to be worthwhile." He had the dull feeling he'd made a mistake.   
"Then go downstairs and start the girls' things."   
"But it'll take forever to finish."   
"And because you're so smart and you've just realized, you'll stay awake until the machine is finished and you've hung up the clothes," Seth returned sharply.   
Dante pulled a face. "Yes, Seth." He rolled his eyes only after he had turned his back to Seth, and then hurried down the stairs to the basement. The faster he did it, the better.

From the lounge sounded bawling, almost drowning out the excited voice of a commentator on some sports broadcast. Bottles clanked and for a moment Dante wondered if the workers were entitled to some beer every now and then, but then he turned his attention to the laundry.   
"Is this yours, sweetie?" The amused voice made Dante turn around. In the doorway to the laundry room stood one of the workers- tall, broad-shouldered, damn good-looking, and wearing nothing but long gray sweatpants, which on the one hand needed a turn in the washing machine, and on the other hand hung so low that it was clear he was not wearing any underwear.   
Dante followed the outstretched forefinger with his gaze and discovered a pink thong which had fallen beside the laundry basket. He put down the bottle with the detergent and then picked up the piece of cloth with pointed fingers. "No," he then simply said, and dropped it on the laundry pile.   
"Not your color?" the man mocked.   
"Not my size."   
The man raised an eyebrow.   
"Too small for my dick," Dante added and beneath the man's laughter he fed the washing machine with detergent and perfume globules.   
"So you're one of those. Well, let me see your big dick."   
"Sorry, that's already been reserved."   
The man laughed again. "Miss Alice won't touch you, sweetie. So drop your pants and let us look. Fresh meat's more exciting than stale news."   
"How do you know that?" Dante asked unimpressed, although Miss Carolyn had also made a remark like that, and stuffed the laundry into the machine. When he looked up again, there were a few more behind the first man.   
"Pants down," he repeated without answering Dante's question, and Dante shook his head.   
"Nope."  
"Pants. Down."   
"If you like gawking at dicks so much, come here, kneel down and pull them down yourself."   
The man's face widened to a scornful grin.   
"Come on, Tom, the boy must have been just standing around pretty, he can't do anything against you," someone shouted over the bawling that Dante's answer had triggered.   
Only- was that Tom? _Tom_ who Frank was working with? Not good.   
Tom had come closer, slowly, leisurely, but Dante saw the dangerous sparkle in his eyes and the tension in the muscles of his naked torso. Nevertheless, he stood relaxed and even allowed Tom to hook a finger into the waistband of his shorts and peek in from above. However, Tom immediately began to laugh hard.   
"Sweetie... you have my condolences."   
"What is it?" someone asked, while Dante simply raised an eyebrow.   
"He's not wearing a cage." The waistband snapped against Dante's belly and the other spectators laughed as well.   
"So what?", Dante defiantly made.   
"Sweetie... only impotent slaves don't wear cages."   
Dante hadn't noticed how thin his patience had become, but now it snapped. "I'll show you who's impotent here straight away," he growled, but Tom continued to laugh.   
"Sure, and next you'll tell us you're making a baby for Miss Alice tonight." He wanted to reach for Dante's pants again, but Dante hissed:   
"Don't touch me or I'll make a baby for _you_!" And at the same time, he raised his elbow, which slammed into Tom's chin.

~

Dante knelt in the living room, blood dripping from his nose.   
Tom knelt beside him, his right eye swelling.   
On the sofa sat Miss Britney, Blaise and Frank; Miss Carolyn and Mistress Alice stood.   
Dante couldn't have said who had intervened, because it hadn't been one of the workers. Seth probably hadn't done it either, otherwise he would have been present.   
"Dante?" Mistress Alice sighed sullenly.   
"He touched me and made statements that are not true."  
"Tom?" Miss Carolyn didn't sigh but rather growled.   
"I looked into his pants and said that only impotent slaves don't wear cages," Tom replied a little muffled.   
"Why doesn't he wear a cage?" Miss Britney wanted to know immediately and Mistress Alice said poisonously:   
"Because I took the thing off him, what do you think?"   
But before any of the women could say anything more, Tom said: "He threatened me with a baby."   
Dante had practically no time to wonder at the strange phrasing or at the fact that Frank suddenly made a very strange face, for he received a sharp slap in the face from Miss Carolyn.   
"Ma!" Mistress Alice shouted angrily. "He's mine!"   
"He has threatened my property with violence."   
"You have no right-"   
"I have _every_ right, Alice!" Miss Carolyn raised her voice threateningly. "This is _my_ land on which _my_ property has been threatened."   
Mistress Alice gritted her teeth. "He'll have the cage put back on," she said, and stepped beside Dante to put her fingertips on his head.   
He flinched and had to pull himself together not to lean away from her- being touched in such a situation never meant anything good.   
"That's not enough," Miss Carolyn said harshly.   
"I decide how my slave is punished," Mistress Alice gave back coolly and Miss Carolyn shook her head.   
Nervously Dante looked from mother to daughter and back. You could have heard a pin drop.   
"Your sweet Dante will work with Tom and Frank for a week and hopefully learn what place he has here," Miss Carolyn finally decided. She emphasized every word in an ominous way and Dante swallowed hard while Mistress Alice's fingertips twitched on his head.   
"One week," she agreed.   
He desperately tried to look on the bright side- he got no beatings, no whip, and physical labor was not bad- but in his head echoed only loud and clear the fear that Tom would make this week a hell on earth for him.


	5. Working with the enemy

_It is said that the Great Mother has many daughters. One of them, Hella, was known above all for her quick-tempered character and for getting her sisters into trouble. So one day she persuaded Eden, whose only weakness was her curiosity, to travel with her to the afterlife- the Great Mother had forbidden it, and that made it all the more appealing._  
_But when the sisters arrived there, they found the afterlife to be a dreary gray place, lifeless, dusty, filled with souls of all kinds who were not lucky enough to sit beside the Great Mother. The much greater problem, however, was that they couldn't return. After they had loudly lamented their suffering, the Great Mother turned to them and shook her head._  
_"My blood has brought you here, the blood of your human fathers lets you stay. It is your own fault for defying my ban."_  
_The good-hearted Eden saw her mistake and sacrificed herself and her divine blood to change a spot of the afterlife into a paradise for the souls of good people._  
_Hella, however, ranted and raved, seized another spot of the afterlife and called all sinners to herself to punish them there forever, for her own frustration lasted eternally._

~

Dante's nose had stopped dripping when he entered Mistress Alice's room.  
"Apparently there's a good reason you've been sold so often. You haven't been here a week and you've already gotten into trouble," Mistress Alice hissed at him and slammed the door shut behind her. To his amazement, however, her expression didn't match what she had just said so angrily. "Great Mother, Dante... is this really necessary?" She looked at him with a frown.  
"Tom provoked me," he said cautiously and she sighed.  
"I thought you had enough manners to stand over it."  
"I may only be a slave, but I still have my pride. Just because I'm the new one here doesn't mean I have to put up with everything." Dante clenched his hands into fists and then pressed his lips together before he could say anything more.  
Mistress Alice shook her head - but seemed more disappointed than angry. "Don't delude yourself that you are something better. Tom is one of Pa's favorites and Frank likes him. Two damn strong reasons to at least _try_ to make peace with Tom. Right?" Very telling, she raised an eyebrow.  
Dante had not missed the pun, and he nodded. "Yes, mistress."  
"Good. Pants down." She turned away, and with a stifled sigh, he complied. With the horrible pink cage in her hand, she stepped before him and then paused. "One week of work duty," she said quietly. "And the cage. But I only said _that_ you must wear it, not for how _long_."  
Stunned, he looked at her and a strange, almost gloating smile appeared on her face before she knelt down. A whiff of cherry scent remained in the air before him and he got goose bumps as her breath brushed against his privates.  
"Three days."  
"Thank you, Mistress," he replied slowly. She confused him and he flinched as she almost gently patted his bottom while she rose.  
"Fortune in misfortune: your ordered things were delivered earlier. I congratulate myself on having bought you work things. There, in the bags." She pointed to them, and while he was still adjusting his shorts, he nodded. "There's a blue jar with red flames on it in the bathroom cabinet. Put that on where Tom hit you, on your nose as well. And then go to bed."  
"Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress."

~

Frank only appeared in the kitchen when Dante had already put his coffee on the table. He seemed unhappy and spoke more with the fridge than with Dante when he said:  
"Can't you be friends with Tom?"  
Dante, already the pan for the omelet in his hand, sighed. "I can try."  
Frank nodded and then they remained silent until they had taken the first bites.  
"What exactly are we doing today?" Dante wanted to know carefully. Strangely enough, it touched him deeply to see Frank so depressed.  
"We'll get the wood that's lying by the Braddocks," Frank replied seriously and Dante nodded.  
"And... um... how can I help?"  
"I don't know. We'll see." This seemed to unsettle Frank and Dante tried to smile - although he was actually the one who needed cheering up. His nose was not broken, but it hurt like hell and was so swollen that breathing was only possible through his mouth. He had two fat bruises on his ribs and on his thigh, and the hand with which he had punched was hurting when he stretched his fingers.

What then gave him a little inner satisfaction was Tom's face. His eye was almost completely swollen and a swelling on his chin had spread so far that it reached his mouth and distorted it. Yet he grinned crookedly and reached out his hand to Dante.  
"Here's to good cooperation," he said mockingly, and Dante returned both grin and handshake.  
"To good cooperation."  
Frank looked pleased while Tom crushed Dante's damaged hand. "I'll get the wood truck," Frank said. "Tom, can you show Dante everything and then come after me with the crane? That thing's faster than the tractor."  
"Sure." Tom nodded and Dante swallowed hard. Maybe Frank just wanted to give them a chance to get to know each other in peace, but nothing in Tom's behavior indicated that there could actually be peace.  
Not while Frank was not in sight.

How right he was, became apparent seconds after they parted ways - Frank walked on, while Dante and Tom entered one of the large barns. And immediately Dante was grabbed by the collar by Tom and pressed against the front of the large vehicle standing just behind the huge rolling gates. Last night he had managed to surprise Tom with his training in close combat, but Tom was definitely stronger and hardened from daily hard work.  
"You listen to me now, sweetie," he hissed in Dante's ear as he tried in vain to free himself from his grip - Tom knew what he was doing. "You are at the bottom of the food chain here, no matter what you used to be. Nobody here is interested in that. I, on the other hand, have lived here for 10 years and know how things work."  
Dante growled wordlessly; Tom smelled intensely of tomatoes and vinegar and his breath made Dante's skin tingle.  
"So... if you don't want to mess up with Blaise... and you don't want to disappoint Frank... and you want to keep all your fingers... then you'll do as I say."  
"Kiss my ass!" Dante growled angrily and to his surprise, Tom began to laugh and let him go.  
"That's exactly what I intend to do."  
An icy cold uneasy feeling took hold of Dante, but Tom calmly showed and explained to him the inside of the barn, where all sorts of equipment and tools and whatever else was standing, lying and hanging.  
"The farms here have more or less joined together and established a kind of division of labor," Tom explained, as if nothing had ever happened. "We Mitchells take care of the lumber."  
"And the other farms?" Dante asked tense.  
"The Braddocks take care of the wool. The Washingtons handle the grain. The Stones handle the meat and fish. There are still the Abbermills, the Parkers and the Horners, but they are not as important or don't work as closely with us."  
Dante nodded; he had no idea about such things, but it was certainly a good strategy because such equipment and machinery was guaranteed to be expensive.  
"Well, sweetie..." With Tom's lovely tone of voice, Dante tensed up even more. "You wanted me to kiss your ass. Drop your pants."  
Dante snorted. "Absolutely not." He saw Tom's hand coming and dodged, but the exchange of blows hadn't really started yet when he stumbled over something. Tom took the opportunity to grab him and seconds later Dante slammed into a work table, his face inches away from a saw blade.  
"So, sweetie... ready to cooperate?"  
"Do it yourself," Dante returned grimly, because the edge of the table pressed against his damaged ribs with extreme pain.  
"I like that..." Tom grinned audibly and rubbed himself against Dante - it was amazing how relieved he was at the feeling of Tom's cage - before yanking down Dante's pants. "Don't move," he hissed and gave Dante a sharp and painful slap on the butt before he took a few steps away.  
Since Dante really didn't want to find out in the first twenty minutes with Tom to what extent he was going to make his threats come true, he kept quiet and on top of that his mouth shut.  
With a contemptuous snort, Tom finally held something in front of his face. "You like that, sweetie?"  
Dante blinked irritated before he recognized the thing as a wooden butt plug with a gel-like substance stuck to it. _Oh, no, please no..._ "Are you-"  
"Psh! Nice and quiet!" Tom grabbed one of Dante's butt cheeks tighter than necessary and before Dante could protest any further, he gasped in pain because Tom was anything but gentle or slow. The feeling was unpleasant, disgusting and _wrong_ , and that Tom afterwards kneaded his butt with both hands did not make it any better. "I made this pretty little thing with my own hands and you will do me the honor of wearing it every day you spend with me," he whispered.  
"And what do you dream of at night?" Dante hissed, whose pride was howling in pain.  
"Maybe you," Tom hissed back, and then hit the table with his fist, so that the saw blades hopped in front of Dante's nose. "I'm gonna go check, you know..."

~

Dante sat very tense on a box in the cab of the crane truck, which Tom steered completely relaxed across the Mitchell farm, along the main road for a bit and then to a new farm.  
Tom's smug silence and Dante's reluctance to start a work-related conversation made him all too aware of the strange feeling in his butt. It was awkward and unfamiliar, and most of all unwanted, but the vibration of the crane truck added a very different, warm, feeling, and he wanted that even less.  
A mixture of willow and orchard went left and right and finally, after a turn around a group of birch trees, the farmhouse came into view, which looked quite similar to the Mitchells'. On the front porch stood a red-blonde woman studying some papers with reading glasses on her nose.  
"Morning, Miss Braddock," Tom shouted happily, and as Miss Braddock looked up and raised her hand in greeting, Dante asked quietly:  
"The Mistress here?"  
"No. This is Dawn Braddock Jr. The Mistress here is Dawn Senior, but she is not in the best of health." Tom gave Dante a quick glance. "Mistress Carolyn's brother Carter is married to Delilah Braddock. Their daughter is therefore your mistress' cousin." Something about Tom's tone of voice disturbed Dante, but perhaps it was just his basic dislike that spoke through him.  
Slowly they drove across the grounds, between two pastures, and toward the edge of a wooded area where Frank was already waiting with a large lumber truck next to a rather high pile of wood. Just as Dante was about to say something, Tom grabbed him painfully by his knee. Without turning around, he said quietly and coldly:  
"Your little gift brings Blaise a nice pocket money. And because Blaise is a grateful man, this stays between us, understand, sweetie?"  
"Understood," Dante growled. Still, he wondered how much trouble it would bring him if he told his mistress - or directly Miss Carolyn - the truth.  
Probably more than a week's humiliation was worth.

"So... we use the crane to lift the logs onto the truck. This is the remote control." Tom patted the box he had hung around his neck on a padded belt.  
"The crane isn't the most sensitive, so we have to give it a little help. Can you balance?" Frank wanted to know and Dante frowned.  
"What do you mean?"  
Frank pointed to the grab claw, which Tom snapped open and closed fittingly. "We have to make sure that it hits the log really in the middle and then the logs in the transporter can't lie all over the place either."  
Dante nodded slowly and watched Frank climb up the high pile of wood with astonishing agility. Tom steered the claw, but when it was time to grab the log, he said with a tense frown:  
"If we help too much by hand, too much momentum is created."  
Frank gave hand signals, while Tom steered the claw with jerking millimeter work, and Dante sighed.  
"Nobody can watch this. Give me that." Demanding, he held out his hand and Tom looked at him irritated, before hesitantly handing the remote control to Dante. An oversized controller, but the principle was the same.

After the third log he already had a feeling for how the weight and the moment of inertia changed the movements and with big eyes Frank looked at him after the fourth log landed in the transporter.  
"Where did you learn to do that?"  
"Video games, sir, video games." Dante could not wipe off a grin and Tom snorted in annoyance.  
"Well, at least you're making yourself useful."  
"Obedience and diligence are an adornment for every slave and please the Great Mother," Dante recited slightly mockingly the favorite saying of the nuns who had run the children's home where he had grown up. I  
t was probably Frank's smile that kept Tom from making another remark.

~

"I'm going to take a shower, Mistress," Dante said quietly, and Mistress Alice growled in agreement. Frank had sent him into the house to help with the dinner preparations, but before that Dante urgently needed to wash. Despite all the machines, it was still a lot of hard work and he was exhausted and sweaty. And he wanted to finally get rid of that thing sticking up his ass.  
He closed the bathroom door and undressed, took a grim look at himself in the mirror and then carefully pulled out the butt plug. He laboriously suppressed a hiss and looked at the piece of wood in disgust; he felt sick at the thought that he would have to wear it tomorrow- and bring it in himself in order not to incur Tom's wrath. That Mistress Alice had given him a bottle of lube- though certainly with other ulterior motives- seemed like bitter irony to him, but nonetheless he was grateful.  
Reluctantly he washed the butt plug, dried it carefully and then slipped it between his work clothes- the bathroom door had no key and he didn't want to risk anything. He got into the shower and sighed comfortably as the warm water loosened his muscles. Without that damn cage the shower would have been even better, but for that he had to wait two more days.


	6. Some Answers Are Not What You Expect

Dante hated Tom for the pain he was in. He hated him for the blood on his pillow. He hated him for the butt plug.   
And Dante hated himself for a moment for his disgusted-and somehow scared- hesitation before shoving the thing up his ass. It was a sickening feeling, and left him in a certain bad mood that seemed to startle Frank at breakfast- promptly Dante felt guilty. His mood didn't improve, however, when they ran into Tom outside, who in an unguarded moment groped him scrutinizingly on the butt and then grinned benevolently. And his very general feeling definitely didn't get any better when Frank told him to climb on the tractor to ride with him today- this vehicle vibrated even worse than the crane truck.

"Today it's the Horners' turn. Well, their wood.", Frank explained, still sounding a little put off by Dante's mood.   
"Where do they live?" Dante wanted to know. His mental map was still pretty white.   
"Next door to us." was the laconic answer. Dante must have grimaced a little, because Frank hastily explained, using a few buttons as reference points: "We're here. The Braddocks are on the other side of the main road. The Washingtons on our corn side and the Horners on the pasture side."   
Dante nodded and then they rolled on in silence.   
The silence out here was overwhelming. It was never quiet in Denser's Port, even in the dead of night, but here... Over the sound of the tractor and crane truck behind them, Dante could still hear the bleating of the sheep- and nothing else. He was a city kid, and this completely different world of sounds was both fascinating and frightening; if his other senses - and he himself in general - weren't already fully occupied with other things, he probably wouldn't have been able to sleep at night.

At the Horners' farm, a few work slaves were scurrying around, and as they approached a barn, Dante could see two men inside, arguing loudly over the open hood of a whatever. Some of the gruff cursing reached Dante's ears, but when he saw that the two were free men, he stifled a grin.   
At that moment, a younger man joined them, raised his hand briefly in Frank’s direction in greeting, and then, looking at the other two, shook his head in resignation. By outward resemblance, the three were related.   
But something unsettled Dante. Yesterday, while working at the Braddocks', they had run into their twins- two boys, somewhere between teenager and man. They hadn't been wearing collars either, and as the tractor approached the trees, Dante dared to ask:   
"Why are there so many free men around here?"   
Frank seemed more than puzzled by the question. "Yeah, well, why not?" he asked back.   
"Eyes on the road." Dante said, because Frank was eyeing him strangely, and then added: "There are no free men in the upper class." Or rather, upper-class boys were raised to refuse when offered freedom out of a sense of honor and loyalty.   
Frank chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "That's weird."   
"Why? I mean, could you explain how this works here?"   
"When a family reaches a certain status, the firstborn son of a generation is free. Every other boy of that generation is sent at twelve to another household to be educated and returns to his birth-matriarch at twenty-five. By thirty he has worked himself free." Frank explained it as if it were a basic matter of course, but Dante shook his head.   
"That's against the law, Frank. Nobody can just work themselves free like that."   
"No?" A mixture of wonder, doubt, and discomfort.   
"No. A slave must be thirty years old, have lived with the same mistress for the last five years, need the consent of his mistress and the goodwill of two other women, and the absolution of a high priestess on top of that, before he can be given his freedom," Dante explained, mentally adding: _'And he must have the balls to first initiate the procedure, and second, to accept the freedom as well'._   
"So, that...that I'm free is _wrong_?" Frank sounded shaken as he touched his bare neck with one hand.   
Dante was overcome with the uneasy feeling that he had definitely asked the wrong question. "Well... according to the law, all boys are the property of their matriarch or mother from birth on," he said carefully. "Only women are born free." It was probably fortunate for both of them that they reached the first woodpile a few thinking moments later.

~

The rest of the day was spent explaining wood to Dante. He had heard at some point that different types of wood looked different, but all the different characteristics and therefore uses far exceeded what he had ever wanted to know about it. He learned what bark mulch was and what it was used for, and had to listen to a lot of snarky remarks from Tom about his lack of knowledge about nature.  
"You probably think cows are purple, too, like the chocolate, don't you?" scoffed Tom at one point, and Dante raised an eyebrow.   
"Oh, you know what chocolate is?"   
In the tiny moment that Frank was out of sight, he got punched in the kidneys for that, but the fact that Tom was mostly silent after that was worth it.

It wasn't over yet, though, because as they prepared for dinner, Ethan smugly described in far too much detail how he had spent his afternoon- namely, in bed with Britney. He firmly believed he could do more for society than raise a girl who wasn't his. He wanted to father a daughter and Dante wisely refrained from commenting on it.   
Mikey, however, saw his face and was highly amused that Dante would never find his way into Alice's bed.   
TJ, who looked like he'd been biting into a lemon the entire time, finally snapped at him to shut up, but was too late, because Dante was already coolly asking:   
"Why doesn't someone just explain to me what that's about, hmm?"   
Mikey, terribly spot-y and barely sixteen, grinned broadly as if he'd eaten wisdom with spoons. "You'll see."   
"If you keep yelling like that, _you'll_ see what you get for it," TJ grumbled sullenly.   
It probably would have turned into a full-blown argument if Seth hadn't walked in just then and urged them to hurry. As if that would make the vegetables cook faster.

~

Dante was just setting down a stack of dirty plates in the kitchen when Miss Carolyn's nagging voice echoed through the house.   
**"Dante! Alice!"**   
"Uh... what did you do?", Seth wanted to know anxiously.   
"Nothing.", Dante hurried to say and started moving. Had he done something wrong? Apparently so, because when he arrived in the living room, he was greeted by a slap in the face.   
"Ma!" protested Mistress Alice immediately, but Miss Carolyn paid no attention at all to her daughter, while Dante flinched, dumbfounded.   
"What kind of crazy stuff do I have to hear? My son, _my baby_ , is supposed to wear a slave collar?"   
Dante blinked. _Oh._ "No, Miss Carolyn, this is a misunderstanding-" he began, sending up a quick prayer to heaven that this misunderstanding would not end bitterly, but Miss Carolyn hissed angrily in between:   
"Misunderstanding, huh? So you're going to lecture me?"   
"Ma, why don't you let him explain what happened first? Why should Frank be wearing a collar?" Mistress Alice objected calmly, but with a frown. "Well, Dante?"   
A tiny bit relieved, he turned to his mistress. "I asked why there were so many free men here," he said, trying to remain calm; Miss Carolyn was scaring him a little. "Frank's explanation was followed by a counter-question about why I was so surprised, and my explanation-"   
"Tsk! We've handled it that way here for generations." Again, he was interrupted by Miss Carolyn. "And I'm certainly _not_ going to let someone like _you_ tell me that my family is on the same level as you."   
Dante made an offended grimace. "So says the honorable law of the Great Mother!"   
The response was another slap in the face. "Alice, teach your pretty boy some manners. If I hear him putting nonsense into my son's head again..."   
"Yes, Ma." mistress Alice sighed and Dante swallowed- with wounded pride and now furious- an inappropriate and incendiary remark. And then he was highly confused again when his mistress slapped her own hand once Miss Carolyn was out of sight.   
"Since you obviously don't know how to behave with free men, I hope for your sake you know how to treat a woman," she then complained loudly. "Upstairs, come on! I want a bath!"

_What the fuck is going on here?_ he asked himself as his mistress finally made her way into the large bathroom with the huge bathtub still filling up. Following her instructions, he had added bath additives and fetched fluffy towels, and now he knelt beside the tub in nervous tension.   
She pushed the door shut, turned the key and sighed. "Great Mother..."   
"Mistress?"   
She lowered herself to the edge of the tub and rubbed her eyes. "You've made Frank terribly insecure."   
"I'm sorry about that, I just-"   
"I know." She smiled weakly. "I know the handling here is illegal, every woman knows that- but the men don't. Also, to protect them." Her smile faded and Dante had a big _'why?’_ in his head, but he didn't dare say it. He had no idea where he stood with Mistress Alice- she had only pretended to slap him, but she certainly wouldn't be lax in punishing a real limit crossing. "But who am I to change that?" she continued, sounding surprisingly bitter. "Just the third-born daughter."   
Dante could have replied with some nice phrases, religious slogans which had been drilled into him, but he refrained; he couldn't imagine a woman like his mistress finding comfort in that.   
"Be careful what you tell the others about your life in the big city," she finally said, turning off the water and beginning to undress.   
"Mistress, I-" Dante wanted to leave her alone for her bath, but she clicked her tongue and he sank back into his kneeling position as her clothes fell before him. Modestly, he kept his eyes on her feet.   
"Haven't you ever seen a naked woman?" she asked with good-natured mockery, sighing as she sank into the warm water.   
"Yes, I have," he said, now getting up to gather her things and place them neatly on a stool. "But you're certainly worlds prettier."   
She laughed softly, the bath foam crackling.   
Then, as he turned to resume his position, he did venture a glance- her breasts poked out of the foam, and without bra and clothes they were smaller than they appeared, but it suited her slender figure well. With a fine smile she looked at him and he blushed again, uncomfortably suddenly all too aware of his cage.   
"Will you tell me why you are listed as impotent?" she wanted to know after a moment of silence.   
"Do you really care, Mistress?" he asked back doubtfully.   
"Of course, I do. Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked."   
"Well then..."

And so he talked.   
About his very first mistress, with whom he was supposed to learn how to serve, and who sold him after only a few months because her favorite slave was a little too interested in the boy.   
About his second mistress, an ancient rattle-thin matriarch who had a reputation as an outstanding teacher and with whom he actually learned a lot for two years. Until she herself developed a certain interest in the late changing boy's body and called him to her one evening. Dante remembered very well - despite all the attempts at suppression - how much he had feared punishment. Until then, he had only been given a very superficial explanation of how things worked between a man and a woman, and so everything in his mind revolved around a very special punishment when she took the cage from him and touched him intensely. He was afraid that her bony fingers would hurt him at any moment, and that didn't change when she tried again a few weeks later.   
He told about a later mistress who had slapped him every time he looked at her daughter for more than two seconds- unfortunately, he had had a crush on the girl.   
And he told of his penultimate mistress, who was wider than tall and no longer the youngest. She had taken a liking to him and bought him solely for that reason- and then cursed loudly when she read the _'probably impotent'_. Since he didn't respond to artificial stimulants- despite the entry in the file, she had tried it- she pulled out all the stops and did so for weeks. To no avail. In the end she had done everything she could to get a medically confirmed _'impotent'_ stamped in his file and had subsequently sold him with a pink cage.

Mistress Alice apparently found the story very amusing and Dante squirmed under her giggles.   
"Tomorrow," she then said, sliding across the tub until her face was very close to Dante's, "I'll take the cage off you. And then"- with a wet finger she nudged his nose, making him flinch- "you'll be a good boy and never have one put on you again."   
He nodded. "Yes, Mistress." He cleared his throat. "I'll try, Mistress."   
She grinned. "You already know you're going to get yourself in trouble, hmm?"   
As emotionless as possible, he shrugged. "I already told you I have my pride."  
With a strange smile, she sighed.

A little later she demanded a towel and had already got out when he handed it to her. He couldn't stop his gaze from wandering over her, and his cheeks grew warm- and his cage tight. Now at least he had something to think about when he went to bed without a cage, although it tingled uncomfortably in the back of his head that she was very aware of that.

~

On day three of his sentence, it began to rain shortly after he went back to work with Frank and Tom after lunch. They retreated to the big work barn to take care of various things until Frank looked at the clock shortly after three and sighed. Before Dante could ask what was wrong, he stepped up to the window and began to chafe at the rain.   
Tom leaned against the crane truck parked inside here with his arms folded and a strange smile, and since Frank didn't finish after two minutes but really got into it, Dante did the same and leaned against a work table with his arms crossed. There was something terribly childish about the odd tantrum, precisely because it was about something as silly as rain, and after a while Dante understood why Tom was smiling like that.   
"What?", Frank finally growled at the two as he turned back to them.   
"You're cute." Dante blurted out what he had been thinking, and the annoyance drained from Frank's face, replaced by surprise and punctuated with a delicate blush.   
"And yet Blaise is right when he says you're not made of sugar." Tom saved the moment, which threatened to become embarrassing. He nodded at Frank. "Go in, I'm sure he's waiting."   
"I don't want to go to town. It's raining." Frank pouted and Tom stepped toward him to ruffle through his curls.   
"I know." It was a very affectionate, sort of brotherly gesture and surprised Dante a little.   
Frank gave an unwilling grunt and then slipped out- Tom watched him go until he reached the house, then turned to Dante, a strange expression on his face.   
"What's wrong with Frank, by the way?" Dante then asked, before the mood could tip.   
Tom shrugged oddly sad, but just when Dante thought he was not going to get an answer, Tom began to speak. "A car accident. I wasn't here back then, so I only know stories and... well, the outcome." He hesitated. "It was a car accident. Miss Alice's twin brother Anthony died in it, and Frank was in a coma for about a year. He had to relearn a lot of things after that- talking, walking... but I think his brain took quite a bit of damage."   
Dante frowned. "He doesn't seem like he's dumb."   
"Oh, he's not." Tom shook his head defensively. "He's smart, and sometimes has genius-clever ideas, but... he's practically still the ten-year-old from before the accident." For a moment, agony flitted across Tom's face. "I guess it wasn't very supportive, either, having two toddlers running around here in the rage and defiance stage during his intense puberty phase. But oh well, what can you do." He shrugged. Sad as it was, it explained a lot.  
Dante forced a smile. "You like him."   
Tom nodded seriously. "I love him like a little brother, so if you-"   
With a shake of his head, Dante fended off the threat and was almost surprised that Tom left it at that.

Side by side they walked into the back of the barn and a certain nervousness crept back into Dante's stomach. "While we're having such a peaceful chat..." -Tom snorted- "Why is everyone making fun of the fact that my mistress won't take me to her bed? I mean, what's so _funny_ about that?"   
Tom snorted again, but this time amused. "You're her own personal slave. In this country, their job is to make their mistress happy all around."   
Dante rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and?" He'd had the same idea, but that didn't explain the joke.   
"You'll see..." Tom said with a grin, however, and Dante sighed resentfully. The little bit of hope that maybe he and Tom could actually spend the rest of the afternoon peacefully vanished into thin air, however, when Tom pushed him against a workbench in the far corner of the barn. He put up a fight, but Tom pitilessly shoved his knee into his privates, causing him to practically fall into the work slave's arms as he doubled over with an involuntary whimper. Seconds later, Tom's hand was inside Dante's pants, playfully tugging at the plug.   
"Stop that!" Dante angrily hissed, trying to push Tom off of him, but Tom only reinforced his strange half-hug and pressed his mouth down on Dante's neck as if he were a mythical vampire. Dante gasped as Tom plopped the plug out of him and immediately pushed it back in, and he shuddered as the strange sucking turned into small, nibbling kisses. "Tom, stop it!" he whispered, and Tom whispered back:   
"But why?" His breath on Dante's ear and the plug hitting that very special spot teamed up to make Dante tremble and feel his body hyperaware all the way down to his toes. "Sweetie, if I ask Blaise for it, he'll take the cage off me," Tom continued to whisper, licking Dante's earlobe, "and then... hmm..."   
"No!" With all his might, Dante pushed the other slave away from him, who grinned teasingly and licked his lips.   
"No?"   
"Don't you dare touch me!" Dante spat, while the prospect of what Tom had implied made him nauseous. He'd rather stay a virgin for the rest of his life than let a guy like Tom rape him.   
But for the moment, Tom calmed down and instead showed him- albeit with some arrogance- the machine that could be programmed to produce such _nice_ things as the butt plug.

~

Dante's mood improved abruptly when Mistress Alice took the cage from him before he joined the preparations for dinner. Mikey was also in a decidedly good mood, but held back on his jokes because Seth wasn't in such high spirits. Then, as TJ handed Dante some of the silverware, Dante paused.   
"Have you forgotten how to count?"   
"We have a guest," TJ returned, and Dante looked at him questioningly, but got no further explanation.   
Or rather, it partially explained itself as Dante served the ladies their food and between Mistress Alice and Frank sat a young man with a blond braid who- presumably it shouldn't have surprised Dante by now- was free and eyeing Dante intently.

"Valentine," Miss Carolyn said softly as the slaves also knelt at their table, "will you please give the grace?"   
"Of course."   
Dante extended his hands to Daniel and Seth and closed his eyes; Valentine cleared his throat.   
"We thank the Great Mother for every life she brings to earth. We thank the Great Mother for our health and strength. And we thank the Great Mother for the love she provides us."   
At his tone, Dante frowned a little irritated and when he opened his eyes and reached for his cutlery, Mikey grinned cheekily and Seth gave him a strange smile.

During the meal, Valentine talked with enthusiasm about the botanical garden he had visited, and Sarah, who practically never said anything, asked with a wistful sigh:   
"Ma, can't we have some more flowers in the garden?"   
"If you'll take care of it," Miss Carolyn scowled back, and the subject swung over to the corn harvest and stayed there until the meal was finished.   
Dante didn't like corn, in any form, and wasn't really listening; however, he couldn't help but overhear Valentine- as Dante and the others were cleaning up the dirty dishes- asking:   
"Are you behaving?"   
"Of course, Val." Mikey replied, somewhere between proud and offended.   
"There's nothing wrong with him for now," Seth added seriously.   
Dante grabbed the dirty plates and trotted into the kitchen. Ethan grinned wryly at him, and since Dante wasn't in the mood for another stupid conversation, he immediately turned back around to fetch the rest. He paused in the hallway, though, because he heard giggling.   
Halfway around the corner, Mistress Alice was leaning against the wall, pulling Valentine in for a sensual kiss.   
"I missed you." He purred, and she giggled again.   
"Me too..."   
Smiling, Dante went back to the dining room, gathered up the dirty napkins, took the stained seat cushion from Jack, and met a still-grinning Mikey in the kitchen- but the grin faded at Dante's smile.   
"Don't pay him any mind," Daniel said from the dishwasher, looking up briefly as Dante shook out the napkins over the sink. "When his big brother's here, he always acts like that."   
"Well, well...," Seth cautioned, but Dante grinned at Mikey.   
"You don't look anything like him."   
Mikey drew a pout. "So what? But he's the one who warms your mistress' bed."   
"So what?" Dante echoed with a shrug. When he thought about it, it was a duty he wouldn't fight for. He'd heard too many times that it was incredibly difficult to satisfy a woman all around. "Less work." He couldn't imagine sex being really fun that way anymore.   
Daniel, TJ and even Seth laughed quietly, while Mikey's face distorted.   
"Besides, a happy mistress is a good mistress," Dante then added, and Seth nodded.   
"As for Miss Alice, that is indeed true."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave comments and thoughts =)


	7. "Without complaint I meet duty and punishment"

The problem resulting from Mistress Alice's gentleman visitor, however, Dante didn't realize until he was standing in front of her door. He could hear a muffled moan and to barge in now because he wanted to go to bed... uh, no, rather not. He turned around, hurried back down the stairs, and caught Seth still in the kitchen, his hand on the light switch.   
"What is it?" he asked in surprise, and Dante pointed upstairs.   
"I don't think it's a good idea to disturb my mistress right now..."   
"Ah. No." Seth shook his head. "Um... well, I guess if you don't really want to sleep with the workers"- Dante actually didn't- "you could ask Frank. He has a slave room, too."   
Dante nodded. "Okay..." He hurried back upstairs and knocked on Frank's door.   
"Come in." he sounded surprised and Dante opened the door, but remained standing in the hallway. "Dante...", Frank said a touch more surprised and Dante wrung a smile from himself.   
"Um... I really dislike disturbing you, but I'd want to disturb your sister even less right now..." Was Frank aware of what sex was?   
"Val's here." Frank said seriously, nodding.   
"I don't know where to sleep.", Dante said freely after a moment, not knowing how else to explain the matter.   
Frank, who had very obviously just been about to go to bed, pointed behind him to the same. "You can stay here."   
"Surely you have a slave room, don't you?"   
"Uh, yeah, but the bed doesn't have a mattress..."   
"Oh. Well then..." Having no choice, Dante nodded, entered, and closed the door behind him- and then watched, stunned, as a blushing Frank threw three stuffed animals and a cuddly blanket out of bed. "Hey, hey, there's no need for that," he said gently, bending down to pick up an owl which had landed not far from his feet. Then he picked up a vintage teddy bear and an elephant, gathered up the cuddly blanket, and set it all down on the empty desk, which was obviously mere decoration here. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Frank looking at him with wide eyes, and on impulse he arranged the stuffed animals next to each other and covered them up. The nuns who had raised him and so many other boys had left a certain lasting impression, though he wasn't sure how much that would help him here.   
Frank still looked exceedingly embarrassed.   
"Do you have another blanket and pillow?", Dante wanted to know, adding at Frank's irritated glance: "Not for your friends, but for me."   
"Oh. Uh...yeah..." Frank pulled a box out from under the bed and silently Dante covered fresh bedding before spreading it out on the empty half of Frank's bed.   
"Thanks." he said honestly, and Frank nodded mutely. "I'm going to the bathroom for a minute."   
Frank nodded again.

In the bathroom, Dante took a deep breath. During the day, at work, Frank seemed pretty normal. He knew what he was doing, was driving the tractor, operating heavy machinery. But here he looked completely lost, with stuffed animals in bed. Dante wasn't sure how to deal with that, after all Frank wasn't really mentally handicapped, he was just...   
His eyes fell on the razor at the sink. Great Mother, what must it feel like to be a ten-year-old looking in the mirror and seeing an adult? To what extent had he been told about growing up? Dante shuddered, thought of the nuns with their infinite patience and gentleness, and sent a short prayer to the Great Mother.   
Then he stepped back into the main room and crawled into bed as if everything were perfectly normal.   
Frank hesitated before doing likewise and then lying down so that he could look at Dante.   
Dante smiled cautiously, wondering if he should just say goodnight or if a comment regarding the bedside lamp Frank hadn't turned off was needed, but Frank beat him to it.   
"Are you homesick?"   
The question stunned Dante so much that he asked: "Excuse me?"   
"Are you homesick? You look sad."   
"No. I'm just pensive.", Dante quickly calmed the worried tone. "This is my home now."   
"Yeah, but... I mean, the home where you were before."   
Dante shook his head. "I've been sold too many times to have a real home anywhere."   
At first Frank looked puzzled, then he said: "Alice won't sell you." He sounded so convinced of this that Dante saved the rebuttal lying on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he tried a smile.   
A strange silence ensued until Frank turned around and turned out the light after all.   
"If you need a night light..." Dante began cautiously, but Frank immediately said:   
"No, I don't. Sleep well."   
"Good night..."

~

The beeping of Frank's alarm clock reminded Dante that his own alarm clock might disturb his mistress- the insistent beeping lasted for three minutes before it died away- but there was nothing he could do about it now. He yawned and the mattress shook as Frank rose. Rubbing his face, Dante sat up and then made a sound of protest when Frank's shorts hit him in the head.   
"Oh! Sorry!" Frank, who had carelessly tossed the clothes behind him, turned around startled and looked at Dante with big eyes. Well, it wasn't that noticeable with clothes on, but _everything_ about Frank was big.   
Dante couldn't help but let his gaze wander, and while he wondered again how the boy inside Frank was handling it, Frank blushed.   
"What is it?"   
"Oh, I just thought of two dozen women who would pay a fortune for a slave with your looks." Too late, Dante bit his tongue, but the words were out.   
"Why?" Frank looked down at himself and Dante tried to save it with a shrug.   
"You're a handsome young man."   
The blush from Frank's cheeks spread to his chest and shoulders- so much for saving it.   
But Dante shrugged again, yawned, and slid out of bed, stretching- and then he paused, for Frank was looking at him almost fearfully. "What is it?" he wanted to know in alarm, and Frank pointed.   
"You're not wearing a cage like the other slaves."   
"Uh... no." Dante didn't need to look down to know what Frank meant. The feeling was still too unfamiliar not to notice.   
"It must go away," Frank said forcefully. "Ma and the others will get mad if they see it." _What_ he was saying and _how_ he was saying it made it clear that no one had likely given him some essential explanation.   
Part of Dante wondered why Blaise- who was, after all, so affectionate with Frank- had not even taken his son aside, as would probably be normal, but the larger part of him smiled unconcernedly at Frank. "That's normal. It'll go away on its own."   
"Put cold water on it."   
"I could jerk off, too"- he _still_ hadn't had time to try that- "but I don't have time for that now." He shrugged, his mind already on the problem of needing work clothes, when Frank looked at him, frowning.   
"What do you mean?"   
This time Dante's teeth clicked audibly together. Miss Carolyn had warned him not to tell her son anything foolish, but apparently no one cared that the son of the house was apparently clueless about the most basic things. "That... You should probably ask your Pa."

~

Fresh work clothes were not the problem.   
His shoes were also non- Mistress Alice actually brought them to him in the kitchen, completely sleepy, grabbed a bottle of water and disappeared again.   
The problem, as Dante uncomfortably remembered when he saw Tom, was another. In an overly friendly gesture, Tom put his arm around Dante's shoulders and murmured to him:   
"I talked to Blaise."   
Dante got hot and cold at the same time; a fine shiver ran over him when they reached the barn in this embrace and Tom almost immediately groped his butt.   
"Oh, well what have we here? Yawning void?" he whispered in Dante's ear and Dante pushed him off.   
"Do you seriously think I'm so stupid as to disturb my mistress and her lover?" he hissed. Frank's discordant humming easily drowned him out. "That thing is with my clothes, which I had taken off before dinner."   
Tom clicked his tongue disapprovingly, but said: "Hey, Frank, remember, we've got to get the truck ready for the sawmill later."   
"Yup." Frank returned cheerfully, and they set about their day's work.

Tom might not have said anything further about the missing butt plug, but Dante knew full well that there was something more to come. It made him spend the entire morning tense and conspicuously just before the time he normally returned to the house to prepare lunch with the others, Tom called him over.   
With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, Dante went to the corner where some of the equipment Tom mostly worked with was located. "What's up?" he wanted to know, tapping sawdust off his pants.   
"Blaise wants a shipment out no later than the day after tomorrow. We'll take care of that now," Tom replied, nodding to the machine for making the butt plugs. "Set the arms to 25cm and select program 2."   
Dante nodded and did as instructed while Tom went to the front to Frank and exchanged a few words with him. When Tom returned, he nodded to the waiting Dante and pulled a roughly cut block of wood from a basket, which he clamped into the machine.   
"What's it going to be now?" Dante wanted to know, half curious, half worried it might become something similar to a butt plug- though he couldn't imagine a wooden dildo being pleasurable, no matter what orifice it was in.   
"You'll see in a minute." Tom's grin didn't make it any better. He closed the cover and the machine started after a push of a button. A little later, what looked like a pepper mill came out.   
"Oh.", Dante made in surprise.   
"It's still missing the finishing touches, of course," Tom lectured a little arrogantly. "It needs the grinder in it, and room for the contents, and so on."   
Dante nodded and then busied himself for quite a while making these blanks, until at some point Frank called out:   
"I'm going in the house. Don't take too long, Tom, Ma don't like nobody missing at the table."   
"I know! I'll send Dante right after you!" Tom shouted back, walking over to another box.   
"Is there really any need to hurry, or is this just a silly excuse?", Dante wanted to know sourly, and half-turned as Tom laughed softly- with a new butt plug in his hand.   
"Blaise's delivery really does exist and it's important, but it's already done." Tom smiled, letting the plug circle in his fingers, and Dante gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My, my... don't be so aggressive, sweetie. I'll even give you a new one. You know, I understand about Alice, don't worry. Now, show me that pretty ass of yours, will you?" Tom said it so gently, almost lovingly, that Dante felt sick.   
"What if I don't?" he asked provocatively and Tom grimaced in mock disappointment. Leaning forward, he whispered:   
"Since force majeure prevented you from having your present with you, I'll graciously refrain from deflowering your ass, even though my balls are really itching."   
Dante's face grew hot and his chest tight, he could feel all the muscles in his abdomen tighten.   
"But hey...", Tom continued quietly, "I'll take a blowjob too. Better than nothing, hmm?"   
"I don't want to." Dante said firmly and dismissively, but Tom merely smiled.   
"Sweetie, I know that. But I don't care. I'm in the driver's seat here." That was as fucked up as it was true.   
Dante growled, but offered no resistance- it would probably be futile and dangerous, not to mention painful- as Tom unzipped his pants and shoved them down, underpants and all.   
"Oh lala, no cage? There you go! That makes things more interesting, doesn't it?"   
"Oh yeah?" Dante groused, leaning away from Tom as best he could as Tom put the plug in his mouth and lasciviously licked and sucked on it. But it wasn't until Tom very suddenly kissed him very intensely that he realized there would be no what-so-ever lube this time. Now he did start to struggle, but as suspected it was futile.   
Less than a minute later he was hissing in pain and shuddering at the same time as Tom slowly but relentlessly pushed the plug into him, nibbling on his neck as he did so. Tom's mouth then moved back to Dante's and his hands guided Dante's hands to his still wrapped crotch.   
Dante had never kissed anyone before, and while he certainly wouldn't have voluntarily chosen Tom to do it, kissing was altogether a nice thing to do; Tom seemed to know what he was doing. And not only was Dante hesitantly and unwillingly freeing a steadily growing dick from Tom's pants, no, it was also coming alive in his still naked crotch, all without him wanting it to.   
Tom's hands, rough from working, stroked his dick briefly and he gasped, causing Tom to chuckle. "This," he murmured, licking Dante's lower lip, "could be something very nice and pleasant..."   
"Are you serious?" it slipped from Dante's lips in exasperation, and he got a too-tight squeeze on his dick.   
"Maybe not," Tom conceded, and a frown flitted across his face. "Down."   
"What?"   
"On your knees, sweetie, and use your mouth wisely. The faster you are, the more you'll get out of the meal and the less Mistress Carolyn will complain."   
Dante stared at him angrily, downright hatefully. His insides bubbled with disgust, but Tom pursed his lips.   
"If you don't like it, I can still take your ass. The choice is yours, sweetie." The choice between plague and cholera, it seemed. However, he probably hesitated a little too long for Tom's liking, because he bent over, pressed Dante crotch to crotch against the worktable, and reached for something behind him. Instants later, something razor sharp slid right across one of Dante's ass cheeks- whatever it was, the warning arrived.   
"Okay." Dante whispered, pushing Tom off of him. "Okay, no need for bloodshed."   
"That's what I like to hear."   
They switched positions, Tom leaning against the table and Dante pulling his pants up reasonably neatly before kneeling. Tom's privates were fortunately not half as massive as Frank's, but still Dante swallowed hard before hesitantly putting his lips to them. He had no idea about such things, merely knew jokes and tales, but at least he knew that _blowjob_ was not to be taken literally. For the moment Tom tasted pleasantly of nothing and was - judging by the faint smell - probably freshly washed. With his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he let his tongue explore the piece of flesh, from front to so far back that he didn't have to gag, the soft head with the tiny slit and the strange collar, over the veins and as best he could all around.

After what felt like an eternity of humiliation, Tom's low approving hum grew louder, became a half-suppressed moan, and his hand clawed at Dante's hair, defying all protest. The work slave's hips began to jerk, slowly at first, then faster and faster, and Dante, who had been holding onto the work table almost from the start to keep from losing his balance, was now literally clawing his fingers into its edge, even though Tom's hand on his head was holding him still.  
This was no longer a forced blowjob, here his mouth was being raped.   
To make matters worse, Dante began to gag and of course Tom came right at the worst possible moment- Dante coughed and spit it into his lap, disgusted, filled with nausea and knowing he would never be able to erase these memories from his mind. At least Tom let him go and he fell backwards onto his butt, crawling back a bit and carefully moving his jaw before licking his lips and trying to catch his breath.   
Above him, Tom grinned in bliss. Apparently, he didn't care about the mess in his crotch- a last white drop still clung heavily to his tip- because with erratic fingers he pulled up his underpants. "Lunch?" he asked dozily.   
Dante spat hatefully beside him on the sawdust-covered floor and scrambled to his feet with aching knees. The scratch on his butt burned; his mouth felt almost sore. He gave Tom the deadliest look he was capable of and stalked away.

~

Lukewarm water ran over Dante's fingers holding the butt plug while he stared at himself in the mirror. He still had a horrible feeling in his mouth- even hours later. Sure, they were just slaves, but violence among slaves had been something that belonged for him until now into cheap factories and the like, although certainly no one there would think of just taking the cage off a slave. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, wondering if he should just endure this kind of treatment or not- his cooperation with Tom had been mere punishment, after all, and was coming to an end.   
"Dante?" Mistress Alice's voice made him flinch, but before he could react, she had already yanked open the bathroom door. "Before I forget, you have to- What have you got there?" With a fine frown, she looked at him and he opened his mouth for a reply, but immediately shut it again. "Dante..."   
"Mistress, I..."   
"Let me see."   
He opened his hands, which he had closed almost protectively around the plug, and she made a startled sound.   
"Is this yours?"   
He hesitated, looking for an answer and finding none. He could have just said _yes_ , should have _said_ yes, but he licked his lips and shook his head.   
"If it's not yours, what are you doing with it? Wait, this thing is made of _wood_...?" The look of horror that flitted across her face gave Dante the ass-kicking he needed.   
"Mistress! Please, listen to me! I can explain!" he asked her hurriedly and turning off the water she nodded, albeit tensely.

When he finished his explanation- starting with his first encounter with Tom- Mistress Alice chewed on her lower lip.   
"Go take a shower, I'll talk to Ma."   
Horrified, he looked at her. "But mistress! If you punish Tom-"   
"He must be punished," she interrupted him coolly.   
"He'll make my life a living hell!"   
"Go take a shower, Dante."   
Dante didn't move. "Mistress..."   
"Then stand up for him." she said coldly after eyeing him.   
"What?"   
"Plead leniency for him. He must be punished, Dante, and Pa will get his share too"- Dante was almost glad he hadn't said anything about Blaise's private business with the plugs- "but if you ask for leniency, I will- as far as I can- grant it. I know Tom, it's not like that. But you're damned well _mine_ , and I hate it when anyone handles my things improperly."   
He nodded hastily.   
"And you'll be punished, too," she added.   
"Yes, mistress." he said quietly, lowering his eyes. He hadn't lied to her directly, but he should have told her.   
With pointed fingers she took the plug and rushed out, the door slamming shut behind her.  
  


Showered and in clean clothes, he finally knelt in the living room next to Tom. Besides Mistress Alice and Miss Carolyn, only Miss Britney was present, scowling as she sat on the couch.   
"So, Alice... your sentence?" Miss Carolyn sounded dangerously calm, and Dante stared wisely at the floor. Although it wasn't _his_ sentence, he felt guilty, and he had his hands clenched in his lap.   
"Five lashes for every day Dante spent with that thing." Mistress Alice's disdain was clearly audible.   
"Makes twenty." Miss Britney commented, pointedly bored.   
"And thirty for the rape," Mistress Alice continued coldly.   
No, Dante thought, he felt not guilt, but shame.   
Tom took an audible deep breath. Fifty lashes was a lot and Dante suspected that such things were not common here.   
"Ten more for the threats."   
"Ma, you should add another ten for betraying Pa's trust," Miss Britney interjected smugly. Seventy...  
Tom hissed and Dante swallowed hard. Even for a man like Tom, that would get him a visit to the hospital.   
"Mistress," he whispered, "Mistress, please..."   
"Hmm?"   
"I pray you leniency." He looked up, looked at his mistress, who looked back at him, unmoving.   
"Speak." she said after a moment with a minimal nod.   
"I pray you for leniency on Tom's behalf. That... that thing is not an instrument of torture and...", Dante forced himself not to look away, but he did have to take a deep breath and his face burned, "and it wasn't anal rape." He felt as small and helpless as he had last as a child. In the upper class, every slave fought for himself or in temporary alliances if it helped oneself. Farm life was different.   
"You pray for leniency..." Mistress Alice finally said thoughtfully.   
"He hurt my pride more than he hurt my body."   
"Pride." Miss Britney snorted snidely.   
"Alice?" Miss Carolyn followed up.   
Mistress Alice pursed her lips. "Two lashes a day and twenty for rape. Makes twenty-eight. Plus five for the threats."   
"Thirty-three." chirped Miss Britney in between.  
"We'll make it thirty-five," Mistress Alice declared, but now turned to her mother. "But I'll give the extra two to Dante in addition to the four he got for his silence to me."   
Miss Carolyn nodded. "Good." Still she was dangerously quiet. "Six lashes for Dante." She nodded to Dante, who accepted his punishment with a nod. He could live with that, and he hoped, _he prayed_ , that Tom appreciated the gesture. "Thirty-three lashes from Alice for Tom. Britney's right about abused trust, so I'll put ten on top and confiscate the key to your cage." Miss Carolyn paused. "Execution tomorrow morning. Now it's time to eat."   
Dante was still waiting for the catch of the matter, but murmured humbly "Yes, Miss Carolyn." while the others also made their agreement- or rather acceptance- known.   
Miss Carolyn and Mistress Alice hurriedly left the living room, but Miss Britney stayed behind for a moment, so Dante thought it better to remain on his knees.   
"Oh, Tom..." she purred, coming closer. Out of the corner of his eye, Dante saw her put a hand to Tom's cheek. "Did you have to do that?"   
For whatever reason, Tom didn't answer and Miss Britney stalked away.   
Dante rose hesitantly and glanced at Tom, but he knelt there stone-faced, not moving.   
Maybe, Dante thought, knowing himself how unlikely it was, this was the first time he would be whipped. Maybe he was just now realizing that not everyone kept their mouths shut. Maybe... well, there were a lot of maybes. But since he couldn't and wouldn't do anything more, he turned to his duty in the kitchen.

~

Morning came quickly and relentlessly.   
Not knowing what was next for him, Dante wore his house clothes and met Frank for breakfast with a rather forced smile.   
Frank stood in the kitchen doorway for a moment before actually entering. Did he know what had happened? Frank had told Dante a lot about the farm and his work, but nothing about how he spent his free time and to what extent he was in contact with Tom and the other workers during his free time. Judging by the awkward silence that prevailed, Frank had to know _something_ , but he later took his leave to work with a nod and Dante prepared tea for his mistress.   
Tense, he then knelt beside her bed until she mumbled something unintelligible, followed by: "Go to your room, I will come and get you."

There he sat on his bed, watched the hands on his alarm clock, and finally pulled out of his backpack one of the two books he owned. Religious texts, suitable for children and with pictures. He wasn't so devout that he found real support in it now - he didn't really need it either - but there were a lot of nice childhood memories attached to the worn book and in fact he got a little lost in it, so that he flinched violently when Mistress Alice entered his little room - dressed for a cool morning outside. It was a little before nine.   
"Come." she said simply.   
He put the book on the pillow and followed her through the house and finally outside. Almost immediately he began to shiver and his bare feet were not happy either, but he said nothing.   
Mistress Alice was silent as well, as they walked across the grounds toward three tall stakes which Dante had only seen from a distance so far. Their purpose was obvious now that the entire household had gathered around. All the slaves- dressed fairly warm- and also the three children, which astonished Dante the most.   
Together with his mistress, Dante joined the circle around the stakes and after a moment of silence, Sarah began to say a petition prayer to the Great Mother in a slightly trembling voice- asking for obedient and hardworking men.   
Dante felt a little fooled, but before he could mentally comment, Miss Carolyn barked:  
"Step forward and strip!"   
Dante stepped forward and cast a quick glance at Tom, but he still looked stone-faced and did not return Dante's gaze. So he undressed, dropped his clothes on the dewy grass, and then raised his eyebrows in surprise as a short stocky man with raven black hair stepped up to them.   
"Hands." he growled to Tom, and then, with a nasty-looking rope, tied Tom's hands together in such a way that he practically hugged the stake. It was Tom himself who hooked his bindings into a hook well above his head- the man wouldn't have been able to reach it- and then he grunted as the man pulled on one end of the rope.   
A moment later, Dante knew why Tom had grunted: he had to stand on tiptoe to hook his bonds and his back was uncomfortably stretched. Lashes on tense muscles were no walk in the park.   
"The crime will not be discussed in public," Miss Carolyn said as crisp as the air on this cloudy morning. "Tom will receive forty-three lashes, Dante will receive six. Executed is the punishment by Robert Horner, my thanks to him."   
"Always, Miss Mitchell, always." Robert grumbled, disappearing from Dante's sight; at least that explained why he had looked familiar to Dante.   
"Maisie, dear, are you counting for us?" Miss Britney then asked, honey-sweet, and in Dante's horror that the children were being dragged into it, the girl replied:   
"Of course, Aunt Britney."   
And then the hiss of the whip was his only warning before the firm leather painfully kissed his skin. He swallowed a surprised cry of pain and Maisie said brightly:  
"One."

He endured the six lashes without a sound and although his back burned and throbbed, it was endurable.   
Tom's silence broke with lash number seventeen with a half-suppressed cry.   
"Pa," Jack asked into the relative silence in an innocent little voice, "Pa, does it really hurt that bad?"   
"I guess so," Daniel replied quietly. "But if you're a good boy, you'll never have to find out."   
At strike number twenty-five, the screaming turned into a raspy grunt that turned into a whimper a little later.   
Dante had leaned his forehead against the stake and was shivering with cold, though Tom's sounds did their part to make him shudder.   
When it was over, Blaise cut their bonds and Dante stumbled backward two steps before regaining his balance.   
The circle of onlookers dissolved. All the faces Dante saw were deliberately expressionless - except for Jessy, who was pale and crying silently, and Frank, who was also pale and looking almost ashamed.   
Tom had fallen into the arms of two of his comrades and was being carried by them more than he was walking; Dante could see that Robert had worked Tom with precision evenly from his shoulders to the backs of his knees. A particularly violent shudder shook him and he reached for his clothes, but his shirt and shorts were too damp to put on, so he merely slipped into his underpants.   
"Dante." Mistress Alice stepped toward him.   
"Mistress."   
"Go to your room."   
"Yes, Mistress."   
"Alice?" Frank asked cautiously half into Dante's reply, but Dante nodded to his mistress and turned away.   
Miss Carolyn and Blaise were just entering the house; Daniel had playfully thrown Jack over his shoulder. If Dante guessed correctly, it would have normally been Blaise's job to do the whipping, but he had a punishment waiting for him, too.   
How might a woman punish her husband, a free man? Actually, he didn't really want to know.


	8. Attention from different sides

Dante had to wait a surprisingly long time for his mistress to return to her room. He was still standing there in just his boxer briefs, freezing, when she finally entered. At the sight of him, she sighed.   
"Undress. I'll apply disinfectant and then some wound cream."   
"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress." It wasn't that bad, but Dante half bowed and took off his underpants. Mistress Alice's attention towards him was strange- an irritating emotionless caring- but he was grateful for it nonetheless.   
"Your skin is scraped here and there, so it's going to burn," she announced then, brandishing a spray bottle.   
He nodded and turned his back to her. The disinfectant was cold and it took a moment, but then he hissed under his breath.   
"What I actually wanted to talk to you about yesterday..." she began between two sprays, "you haven't tried on your butler's uniform yet, and you're going to need it tomorrow night."   
"So the Braddock family is coming tomorrow. Does that mean I'm off my woodworking duties?" He tried not to make it sound bitterly mocking, but since his mistress snorted, he probably didn't succeed very well.   
"Yes. It was about your working with _Tom_ , and he's going to be tucked up in bed in the prone position for the next few days."   
"Looked like it..." he muttered, getting a warning throat clearing in response. "Apologies." he said hurriedly. "Mistress, will he appreciate what I tried to do?" Since the spraying stopped, he half-turned and looked at Mistress Alice.   
"Quite possibly." She tilted her head thoughtfully rather than approvingly.   
"But?" He raised a brow.   
"Tom, like you, has his pride." She pursed her lips. "For a slave who's just been whipped, you're plenty cheeky."   
Silly as it was, he couldn't help a wry grin. "Well, maybe that just got my spirits up."   
A slight frown graced her brow, but she rather playfully threatened him with the disinfectant, apparently searching for words for a moment before saying: "Dante... not everyone here will appreciate your style, so hold your tongue, or your spirits will be tickled more often than you'd like."   
"Unless I turn out to be a masochist."   
"Are you one?"   
"No."   
"There you go." She nodded, and because she seemed relaxed, the grin held. To his mistress, he would probably be able to speak frankly, if she wasn't currently upset.   
They looked at each other for a few heartbeats, then she shook her head, but a hint of amusement was evident around her eyes and the corners of her mouth.   
"You're going to cost me a lot of nerves. Now get on your bed and I'll get the ointment. Oh, and Ma doesn't want to see you the rest of the day, so you stay here. Seth will bring you food later. And so you don't die of boredom, I'll let you read my books. Provided you know how to handle them."   
"Carefully." he replied promptly, remembering her words from yesterday, and she nodded before turning around.

He had just laid down when there was a knock.   
"Frank..." Mistress Alice sounded unsurprised, and though Frank lowered his voice, it was not made to whisper, and Dante clearly heard his name and Tom's. Not a minute later, Frank- wearing plain sweatpants, not work clothes- entered his small room.   
"Hey, Dante..."   
Dante half-turned and put on a smile at Frank's downcast expression. "Hey..."   
Frank held a small tin of ointment and turned it indecisively. "Can I...?"   
"Sure..." Dante nodded. "What's wrong, Frank?" he then asked gently as Frank knelt beside the narrow bed.   
Carefully, Frank touched Dante's back. "Tom hurt you." His facial expression now clearly said he was disappointed, perhaps even shocked at that.   
Weakly, Dante shook his head, but his encouraging smile slipped from his lips at the sight. "He hurt my pride more than he hurt my body. I kept quiet, so I was punished."   
"This," Frank said, however, touching the scratch on Dante's buttock, "is not from a whip."   
"No." What else was Dante supposed to say to that?   
"Does it hurt a lot?"   
"No, it's fine." Dante slid his arms under the pillow and wondered what was going on in Frank's head, for the young man seemed to gaze thoughtfully into the void before jerking away from his thoughts and smearing the ointment on Dante's welts with gentle, careful movements. The concentrated expression on his face was kind of cute, Dante thought, but his attention was rather claimed by the touches, which first gave him goosebumps and then- by the sixth welt, just above his butt- made him shiver.   
"Am I hurting you?" Frank asked anxiously, pausing.   
"What? No." Dante shook his head; Frank looked at him with a big uncertain look. "I rarely get touched so nicely." Somehow that sounded wrong. "Well, I mean... usually no one takes care of me at all." That still sounded awkward, and Frank asked, irritated:   
"What do you mean?"   
"Slaves are replaceable." Dante indicated a shrug. "Unless you're very directly serving the needs of your mistress, you're just a job. It doesn't matter what your name is or what you look like, if you will just do your job well."   
"You've been sold a lot..." Frank muttered more to himself than to Dante, looking away. It seemed to be working in him, and Dante was silent. The farm was a community, the house slaves more or less a part of the family, and this was where two completely different worlds just collided.   
And then he was surprised by Frank's renewed touch: with his thumb he spread a touch of ointment on the scratch on his buttocks and then ran his whole big hand over it, down the side, over the ribs almost to the armpit. Dante couldn't quite put his finger on how that actually felt, because something inside him expected that big hand to slide on and possessively grab the back of his neck. Instead, it was fingertips that lingered on his skin and then disappeared- leaving a tingling goose bump. And then Frank stood up with a jerk, forced a smile, and disappeared, while Dante hurriedly and a little confused said _thank you_.

~

Being cooped up in this small room tugged at Dante's nerves, even after he grabbed a book from Mistress Alice's trove. The historical-religious novel was quite interesting, but then not exciting enough to spend the whole day with. Well, at least that's what Dante thought until he stumbled upon the first sex scene and a certain part of his body started to tingle. The protagonist of the book always found time for sensual togetherness and during the fourth encounter of that kind Dante held the book a little too tightly - otherwise his hand would have gone somewhere else and he wouldn't have been able to turn the pages.   
After the scene ended, however, he slid a worn bookmark into the book and put it aside before slipping fully under the covers. Even as he slid his shorts and underpants down, he bit his lip. His skin tingled under his touch and as he cupped his testicles with one hand, his dick twitched expectantly. He had intended to take it slow and savor it fully, but within no time he found himself like in a maelstrom: he needed more, wanted more and more, the up and down of his hand around his dick just wasn't enough... Somewhere in the back of his mind the thought formed that his mistress was next door and possibly heard him, but when this very first orgasm of his life hit him with full force, it completely took his breath away, so any sound was out of the question anyway.

Hissing, he gasped for air. "Oh... fuck..." he whispered to the ceiling as the overwhelming sensation subsided. "Holy shit..." He swallowed and felt like he was made of bubble gum for what might have been a very long while.

He stuffed the spattered T-shirt and shorts he'd used to wipe himself clean out of necessity into the dirty clothes hamper in Mistress Alice's room and was about to head to the bathroom to wash up in earnest when she pushed back her headphones and- without looking at him- said:   
"Take the hamper straight down to the basement."   
"Um, mistress, I'm not supposed to get in Miss Carolyn's face," he objected.   
"I know." Now she did turn and give him a sort of mocking smile- he was glad to have clean clothes on. "But do _you_ know how much that stuff starts to stink after a while?"   
Heat shot to his face and he was very grateful that she left it at that and turned back to her computer.

When he returned to his room a few minutes later, he found a pack of baby wipes on the nightstand.

~

On Dante's grounding day, the house had been spruced up, and when he reported to Seth after showering on the day of the Braddocks' visit, Seth sent him off with Mikey and TJ to prepare the banquet room. As they hauled in extendable tables and chairs, Dante asked:   
"What's your brother like?"   
Mikey grinned wryly yet with pride; except for hair color, the two had nothing in common. "He's going to be a doctor. Well, you know... as far as a free man can become a doctor. That's why he's been down in Sandford the last few weeks."   
"I guess it's a real asset out here," Dante said approvingly, and TJ said:   
"Right. And there are enough slaves- especially the workers- who have so little contact with women that they can't deal with a real female doctor." This wasn't news to Dante, so he nodded.   
"There's this movement, a campaign of sorts, to make sure free men get access to certain professions for that very reason."   
Now Mikey was grinning from ear to ear. "Ever heard of High Priestess Julianna?"   
"She's one of them." Dante nodded again. "Gave a beautiful sermon at the Festival of Lights last year."   
"Is our aunt."   
"Show-off." TJ grumbled good-naturedly, but Dante grinned.   
"I guess that explains why a hillbilly gets such opportunities, then."   
"You're just jealous, you with your stupid rock." Mikey stuck his tongue out at him and Dante laughed softly.   
"Jealous? Hardly."   
"And yet she won't take you to bed."   
"Why do you keep bringing it up, anyway?"   
"Because Mikey's got nothing but sex on his mind right now," TJ piped in again, giving Dante a meaningful look, which Dante didn't understand and therefore answered with a raised eyebrow. "Mikey is here for education. Under the current rules, that means he has to be of age to be called to bed. Puberty tells him otherwise," TJ explained, and Dante, his hands already on the nearest chair, paused.   
"You two are Miss Carolyn's. Honestly, though-"   
TJ nodded hastily. "She loves Blaise." And quietly murmured afterward: "Thanks to the Great Mother." Yeah, Dante would be glad of that, too, if he were TJ.   
"And Miss Britney?" While they were on the subject, maybe it wasn't the worst thing to get caught up on.   
TJ shrugged and hesitated for a moment. "After the incident with Jessy's father... well. She has Ethan, but listening to him, that doesn't seem like a happy thing. She's gone for Chris or Sawyer every now and then, but right now she seems to want Tom and if-well what am I even talking about." TJ grinned uncertainly.   
"I'm listening," Dante assured him seriously, but TJ continued to hesitate. "I saw she's interested in Tom," Dante finally said, and TJ nodded, but shrugged and made a helpless gesture.   
"Tom is... gay." He said that as if it were a crime, but in Dante's judgment, homoerotic relationships were usually the only thing left for a slave- if he even got a chance for such things at all- and accordingly, he wasn't sure to what extent the label _gay_ really applied. "And... well. One of the reasons Mistress Carolyn was so angry about him running around without a cage is that there are concerned voices that he might be messing with Frank."   
"Oh." The sound dropped from Dante's mouth like a stone, and TJ nodded. But then, in that regard, wouldn't it make twice as much sense to explain to Frank what adults were doing?   
"Oh, and your mistress will probably marry Valentine in the spring, as soon as he turns twenty-five."   
Dante merely nodded, filing away the information- the question of why that was pegged to the twenty-fifth birthday, when one came of age at twenty, he didn't even finish thinking- and then put on another insouciant grin as a good-humored Daniel joined the group.

They goofed around for a while and were setting the tablecloths when Seth called out that they needed to prepare a light lunch.   
Daniel, Mikey, and TJ dutifully hurried off while Dante straightened the tablecloths.   
"Dante."   
He winced at Blaise's voice and hastily turned around. He hadn't forgotten that Blaise had been punished, too, and that Tom was one of his favorites. But Blaise didn't seem angry or anything like that, but rather tired. He nodded curtly to Dante.   
"Tom's a proud pighead," he said quietly. "He told me you'd want it." Dante didn't even get time to reply before he continued. "Tom is like a son to me and... and I've already lost one. Thank you." Blaise was visibly disappointed by Tom's breach of trust, and Dante's impression that Blaise was a good guy was reinforced.   
However, he was still searching for words when Blaise had long since left the room.

~

Dante let his eyes roam over the long table and allowed himself a proud smile. He had definitely earned respect from Seth for his work and precision, and even Miss Britney had responded favorably to his quiet suggestion to have the kids gather autumnal decorations.   
"The Braddocks are coming!" it rang through the house, and Dante turned on his heel to hurry to the front door. His new uniform was not really different from his old ones, he had even been given white gloves, and his only problem for the moment was a laundry tag in his white dress shirt that rubbed against his hip.

Through the windows next to the door, Dante could keep a fair watch on the guests, and the footsteps on the porch told him when to open the door.   
"Good evening, Miss Braddock." he greeted politely, though rather to the floor than the couple entering.   
Dawn and her husband, Garry. "Carolyn!" exclaimed Dawn immediately. "Carolyn, my dear, we should do this more often! It's been far too long!" It sounded surprisingly sincere, Dante thought, and even Miss Carolyn's response was not nearly as politely mendacious as he knew and expected from Denser's Port. However, he had no time to listen to such chatter. He straightened far enough from his bow to see who came next.   
"Good evening, Miss Braddock." he said again, this time addressing Dawn's sister Delilah and her husband Carter. "Miss." he followed directly as a young woman rushed right behind. Whether this was Dawn's daughter Rose or Delilah's daughter Ginger- Mistress Alice's cousin- he couldn't tell without another look.   
Another young woman- correspondingly the other- entered, and as members of the Mitchell family gathered here as well, the buzz of voices became deafening, especially as Blaise and Carter greeted each other with booming voices.   
Finally, the twins entered and Dante closed the door behind them. Patrick and Benjamin, who were called Pax and Biscuit for reasons no one could probably recall, stood grinning for a moment before bolting off, playfully chasing Maisie and Jessy. Dante thought the twins, at nineteen, were a little too old for that kind of fun, and the two girls usually made a point of being treated correctly, but that was probably the effect of having an extended family.

The two families slowly but steadily made their way into the festive room and Dante carefully pushed past them to hold the chair for Miss Carolyn - who was, after all, his matriarch and quite superior to his mistress on such occasions. She seemed quite surprised by this and plopped down inelegantly on it, while Mistress Alice seconds later lowered herself gracefully onto her chair, which Dante had pushed into place. Had Dawn not already been sitting at Miss Carolyn's side, he would have given her the same treatment.   
Frank, who looked like a completely different person in his dress shirt and dark jeans, sat down next to his sister and gave Dante a brave smile, which Dante returned.   
It was Rose who sat across from Mistress Alice- red-blond like the other Braddocks- and Ginger who sat on Mistress Alice's other side- small and roundish like Carter and his sister Carolyn.   
He caught Miss Carolyn's prompting nod- and the evening began.

It didn't escape Dante's notice that it took only a few words between him and Seth to coordinate things. It apparently didn't escape the others either, because he got more than one help-seeking glance from the other four slaves during the course of the evening- he involuntarily wondered how chaotic such meetings usually were behind the scenes. Judging by TJ's fearful sweat and frantic demeanor, and a certain relief on Daniel's face when Dante took the tray with the last of the desserts, however, he probably didn't want to know the extent of that answer.  
What he also didn't miss were Ginger's looks all evening and now, as he served Mistress Alice and her the chocolate mousse he would have loved to taste himself, her hand slid up the back of his thigh as well.   
"Alice, our attentive and hardworking butler is yours, right?" she asked in a tone that already told Dante everything, and Mistress Alice nodded.   
"Right." she said around her dessert spoon.   
With Ginger's hand holding him in place, Dante had a splendid view of both cleavages from above.   
"So?"   
"You know I don't have a slave of my own... so... would you mind borrowing him for a moment?" The two women looked at each other and as Ginger's hand moved forward all but unobtrusively, Dante was torn because Mistress Alice had put the cage on him as a _'precaution'_ for the evening.   
She looked up at him from below and he could already hear her _I-don't-care-_ yes as she minimally shook her head. But when she opened her mouth, Miss Carolyn said:   
"Ginger, dear, there's a reason you don't have a slave yet." She was not yet of age. "But I don't think there's anything wrong with a short trip." She looked at Delilah, who in turn looked at her daughter, smiled, and asked:   
"Does he wear a cage?"   
"He does." Mistress Alice replied coolly, and Dante bit his tongue. He was a slave. Slaves were not asked, they were used. Slaves obeyed the will of their mistress. If he had felt a spark of excitement until just now, the public discussion of the subject caused it to die. It seemed almost like divine providence that, after a quick glance at Mistress Alice, he felt the same cool reluctance she did.   
"Mistress?" he asked quietly.   
"Go with Ginger." she said, sounding almost bored, but he could see how tense her posture was. She truly did not like to share.   
"Yes, mistress." He was a slave, a plaything and nothing more. He was expected to humbly comply and obey without complaint.

The room was a little dusty, the furniture covered with large cloths. Ginger hadn't even bothered to remove that very cloth from one of the armchairs, but had dropped herself right there and pulled up her dress. And after Dante had removed her dangerously wet panties with gloved fingers, he now- one of her legs on his shoulder- set to work completely clueless. He had forewarned her- she didn't care.   
From the way she started twitching, shuddering and sighing within seconds, she probably really needed it and hopefully it wouldn't take too long.   
Dante licked and kissed and sucked, not really knowing if he was doing it right, but she really didn't seem to care as long as she got her pleasure in the end. Unfortunately, he found the matter disgusting, and as his tongue tickled Ginger's fleshy pearl and she curled her hand into his hair, he questioned his own sexuality for the first time. Mentally, he made pro and con lists and yet only concluded that his own free will was not to be underestimated. TJ's concerns about Tom from the morning came back to him and his own thoughts about it. But had he had to choose, he probably would have preferred a tender night with a man to an imposed union with a woman. And probably _this matter_ would not be half as unpleasant if he did it voluntarily and for a woman he liked or wanted. Briefly he thought of Mistress Alice and her merry laughter in the bathtub- a moan reminded him of his duties, and he realized with a fine tingle of concern that he had held still for a moment. But apparently that's exactly what gave Ginger the kick she needed, because when he started again, she pressed his face against her so tightly that a grunting sound of protest escaped him.   
Two heartbeats later she cried out and shook so hard she almost slid off the armchair.   
Carefully, Dante disentangled himself, her hand slipped limply away and he set her leg on the floor. He rose and bowed. "I return to my mistress," he announced tonelessly, and without waiting for a reaction, he walked away.

~

"Dante...?" Mistress Alice murmured tiredly from her bed.   
Quietly, Dante closed the door. "Mistress?"   
She sat up and rubbed her face, apparently, she had already fallen asleep and the burning bedside lamp seemed to say she had been waiting for him. "I'm sorry." she said, getting up.   
"What for?" he asked, irritated.   
"Ginger. If Ma hadn't ordered it, I wouldn't have-"   
"It's all right. I have to obey." Dante half bowed. Although he had thoroughly rinsed his mouth, he still had a strange taste in his mouth, and although it most certainly was not, he felt as if his chin were sticky. And his mistress couldn't help it, after all, he had seen that she didn't want to lend him.   
"Still." she muttered, and trudged over to the desk.   
"You should go to sleep," he said gently.   
"First the cage."   
"That can wait until tomorrow, really." He was far too tired for such fun.   
She shook her head. "You've impressed us all." she said, turning with the key in her hand. An honest smile, crooked with fatigue, graced her face; the praise wrapped him up like a warm blanket on cold winter days.   
He smiled back shyly. "Thank you, mistress."   
She took the cage from him and then seemed to want to say something, but merely patted his chest and half-murmured into a yawn: "We'll talk tomorrow."   
"Good night, mistress." He half bowed again and watched as she crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and turning off the light. And so he stood in the darkness, slipped his dick back into his underpants, and went to his room to go to bed.

Something gnawed at him as he then pulled up the covers himself and curled up under them; the inner warmth of praise was not enough to heat his bed.   
A praise, a smile, a pat...   
A slave. A pet.   
Lubricant for a man like a chew toy for a dog.   
He was different from the other slaves, whether they were part of the family like Daniel or merely a household appliance like TJ. He didn't belong here. He didn't fit in.   
He had been the new guy many times, but these feelings were different and unfamiliar. Never before had he felt like he was different. Never before had he felt like he was missing something.   
Only he couldn't even say _what_ he was missing.


	9. Hanging at Poise

_"Now you are one race, one community. Women and men." spoke the Great Mother as she presented the women with the first group of freshly created men. "You carry the divine fire within you, but they are the spark igniting it. But do not forget, my daughters: men are weak and need your guidance. Lead them! Teach them faith, obedience and loyalty! And punish them when necessary."_

_The women received the men and thanked the Great Mother before declaring their claims. With colorful ribbons they made the men's allegiance clear- and symbolically put them in chains.  
They led them, taught them, punished them. But they also loved them - and what they loved, they protected._

~

Over the next two weeks, Dante became fully aware that _'taking care of a household'_ could obviously mean different things. In his old world, it was more meant as the task of the overseer of the house, to keep an eye on everything, to delegate and supervise the tasks. There were slaves for cooking, slaves for cleaning and laundry, slaves for serving, slaves for childcare. Here on the farm, _all_ of this was expected of _each_ and every house slave.  
Dante hated cleaning - so it took forever and never turned out the way it was supposed to. He lacked the flair for cooking. Laundry was easy for him, but it was not enough to fill a day, as was serving. As for the children, he was glad not to meet them more often than necessary. He felt a little useless, a little gratuitous, because as big as the house was, it wasn't really that much work when several slaves did nothing but take care of said house all day every day. It reinforced the thought, the dull feeling which had slowly settled in him, that he didn't fit in here.

One positive point was that they were allowed to put on long clothes at the turn of the month, because it was slowly getting cooler in the house. At the next change of the month they would get warm slippers, and although it seemed silly to Dante to be excited about something as trivial as slippers, he had to confess that he would treasure them; he hated going barefoot.

Furthermore, it was amazing how much and yet little could happen in two weeks.  
The corn harvest began.  
Mistress Alice spent two nights at Valentine's.  
The Mitchells went over to the Washingtons' for dinner one night as a group- the house was eerily empty and quiet, while the house slaves sat comfortably in the kitchen, feasting illegally.  
One morning the house shook because Miss Britney and Blaise were yelling at each other on the basement stairs- it was about honey, but Dante didn't want to know the details and an angry Miss Britney was best avoided anyway.  
Miss Sarah spent a few days in the hospital and came back with the news that they would probably take the baby sooner than nature intended.

~

For some reason, it seemed like a bad omen to Dante that Mistress Alice was out of the house on the very day Tom returned to work. Frank seemed happy about it, despite what had happened, and seemed downright reconciled that evening. Dante had known enough slaves in his life to feel even worse about it. Moreover, Mistress Alice did not return for dinner, and even when Dante went to bed, she had not come back. Maybe, he thought, adjusting the pillow, she was staying with Valentine or a friend...

As Dante walked to the bathroom, he paused- a sigh came from the bed. He could barely see his mistress in the morning darkness, but she was there.  
Good.  
He continued on his way, pushed open the bathroom door- and paused again. "Oh..."  
Valentine stood in the darkness in front of the toilet, one hand on the flush, wincing in shock at Dante's surprised exclamation.  
"S-sorry, sir, I didn't mean to startle you," Dante stammered, and Valentine let out a shaky hiss. "I didn't know-"  
"It's okay." Valentine seemed to nod, and then Dante winced as the flush gurgled loudly. He stepped aside as Valentine passed him and climbed back into bed with his girlfriend without another word. He was naked, Dante realized, and the thought that the two of them might not have cared one bit that a slave was sleeping behind the thin wall to the next room was a little disconcerting.  
As he washed his hands after using the toilet, it occurred to him that Valentine had not done just that. Shouldn't a doctor-to-be know better?  
He studiously ignored the cuddling couple and set about beginning his day's work.

Dante hurried from the basement upstairs, dodging Mikey who was heading down with a basket on his arm, then glanced over his shoulder as quick footsteps came down the stairs from above: Valentine, who was tying his hair as he walked and nodded to Dante, then gestured with his head to the side. Dante nodded back, eager to see what was coming. He wasn't sure if he liked Valentine or not, because the young man exuded a confidence in everything with which he scratched hard at arrogance.  
Nevertheless, he followed him to the front door, where they stopped and Dante was intensely scrutinized. It almost felt like a challenge and Dante looked back intensely; there were still a few red marks on Valentine's neck from their lovemaking.  
"Do you think you could make her happy?" Valentine asked so suddenly that Dante blinked at him, dumbfounded at first. Where did he get that idea? Because Dante had been looking at those pseudo hickeys?  
"With all due respect, sir, but that's your job," Dante finally replied, clasping his hands behind his back.  
With a thin smile, Valentine nodded, but considering that he and Mistress Alice were getting married in plus/minus seven months, he didn't seem very convinced. "I know. Just asking."  
"Don't you want to marry her?" Dante wanted to know, and while he was still mentally cursing himself for that question, a strange expression flitted across Valentine's face.  
"Yes, of course I do," he said with a smile that seemed as unconvincing as the first. "Alice is a wonderful woman, smart, successful, confident..."  
 _Successful?_ pondered Dante, but Valentine kept talking:  
"I know you're a smart guy from Denser's Port and know certain laws, but I'm actually a free man- quite legally- and officially the heir to the Washington farm, even though I have a female cousin."  
Dante frowned; Valentine had three younger brothers, but no sister, and only his mother's brother had produced a daughter with a much younger wife two years ago- the legal background to that would have been interesting indeed, especially since everyone here seemed perfectly happy with the illegal first-son rule.  
Valentine's smile widened. "There are a few clauses to preserve family ownership. Funny enough, it's those very side paths that allow me to have my career now. But the farm still always needs a mistress." That did nothing to dispel Dante's strange vibe about Valentine's feelings.  
"So it's more of a _should_ than a _want_ , right?"  
"I never said that," Valentine dismissed with an artificial-looking exasperated frown.  
"Then why do you want to know if I could make her happy?" Dante tilted his head and Valentine's smile returned, but this time there was something else underneath. Mockery perhaps, a certain condescension in any case, maybe something dangerous.  
"Because otherwise with your attitude, I think you're making her very unhappy."  
Dante had not expected such an answer, and he was left speechless as Valentine turned away without a greeting and stepped out into the fine drizzle.

~

Mistress Alice leaned against her desk and looked thoughtfully at Dante, who had already been pondering all day whether he should dare talk to his mistress about her relationship. Or at least about those strange clauses in the law that Valentine had mentioned. But even that would have meant admitting that he had talked to Valentine, and it would raise the question of _why_ they had talked about it. Dante decided to let it go for now and see if he might find something else to back up his doubts.  
"You're decidedly taciturn today," Mistress Alice said, snapping him out of his thoughts.  
"Possible." He tilted his head in implied agreement and she raised a brow.  
"Dante, you're so different today that Seth asked me if everything was all right with you. Are you getting sick?"  
"What, no, everything's fine." He stood up a little straighter, shook his head and put on a smile.  
His mistress rolled her eyes. "My dear Dante Jeremy Sapphire-Mitchell"- the fact that Dante had a middle name he was hearing for the very first time in twenty-six years- "I'm not blind, and Seth isn't stupid. What's your problem?"  
He had no idea what to say to that, so he kept silent.  
"Consider my question an order," she said seriously after a moment of silence.  
Dante wasn't sure if she was taking the problem seriously or just wanted it out of the way- but it didn't change the fact that he had no answer for her. "I don't know, mistress," he said as honestly as he could.  
"Do you feel uncomfortable here? Treated badly? Don't you get along with the others? Anything like that?" she wanted to know. Still serious, but accompanied by a subtle frown; maybe she really did care about the answer, if Dante had one.  
He shrugged.  
Mistress Alice sighed. "Dante... please."  
"I don't know, Mistress."  
"Do you have a problem with Val?"  
"No."  
The answer must have come too quickly, because she pursed her lips. "I can certainly understand that it's an unpleasant thought to change household again in the foreseeable future already, but I can promise it will be the last time for you."  
Now it was Dante's turn to sigh. "I don't have a problem with Valentine or the future, but I don't know what the problem is either." He was used to changing households, so that was the _least_ of his potential problems.  
"I want you to be honest with me."  
"I know that, Mistress." He nodded seriously and could see that she was relenting.  
"All right... Frank asked me if I thought you'd be willing to continue working with him and Tom."  
Puzzled, Dante raised a brow. "For the rest of my sentence days?"  
"No. Indefinitely." She made a suitably vague gesture. "I think he likes you. And that's saying something, because other than to Tom, he's never been to any other person but me-" She paused and looked to the side.  
A little disconcerted, Dante watched as she chewed on her lower lip and then took a deep breath, sighed, and only then looked up again.  
"Frank... has always been very shy and after the accident he really withdrew. I don't know how Tom did it, but somehow he got through to Frank."  
TJ's reference to the concern that Tom might do unseemly things to Frank flashed in Dante's brain, and as if Mistress Alice had read that thought, she said:  
"I know some people here are worried that Tom- because of his sexual attitude- might take advantage of Frank. First, I have talked to Tom about this and no, that is not the case, because Tom only sees Frank as a little brother. Second, Frank is obviously not mentally capable... or in condition... or maturity level... to comprehend the issue."  
In the tiny pause she took, Dante was minimally annoyed that she simply assumed someone would have already explained Frank's situation to him.  
"Pa tried to talk to him about it a couple of times- after all, his physical development hasn't stopped- but apparently Frank couldn't do anything with it at all."  
A subtle frown crept onto Dante's forehead, for Frank had seemed to him more like no one wanted to explain things to him, but then again, father and son could have just been talking past each other.  
Mistress Alice sighed. "What I was really getting at... Frank seems to have come to trust you."  
Dante nodded as she looked at him strangely- he had noticed that.  
"That's why I'd be happy if you decided to do this, but"- she raised a forefinger- "I'm not ordering you to. If you want to give the matter a second chance- or a first real one, however you may see it- I will have a serious word with Tom. Frank was disappointed and that got through to him, but I'm not getting into a mercy plea a second time."  
"I... have a choice?" Dante asked, puzzled.  
His mistress nodded seriously.  
"Oh... well then..." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to weigh housework against woodwork. When he thought about cleaning, it wasn't a hard decision. "I'll give Tom a chance."  
Mistress Alice smiled weakly. "Get your work stuff together, and I'll go down and talk to Tom."

~

Dante spent two days relatively tense, but Tom behaved as if nothing had ever happened. Sure, Dante had to endure a lot of mockery and jokes again, but he also found a sore spot with Tom, or actually two: religion and being a slave. Wrestling verbally was far more enjoyable than physically, and had the nice side effect of repeatedly making Frank laugh. Accordingly, Dante eventually relaxed and felt quite comfortable after a few more days.

Unfortunately, however, his new day's work reinforced the feeling that he didn't fit in. He was only supposed to come to the house early for dinner preparations- also so he could shower beforehand- and just sitting down at the ready table for lunch was strange.  
Mistress Alice didn't want him as a personal slave, a house slave he wasn't, but a real working slave either.  
No one really seemed to want to take responsibility for him, too. Seth apparently wavered on whether to think of Dante as a helping hand or a burden to be employed, and Blaise phrased it more as a request than an order the two times Dante was supposed to help him. Tom and Frank didn't care about orders, requests, or instructions anyway- what had to be done was done, no matter by whom, because they were a team.

~

Dante threw on the heavy work jacket and almost tripped over his own feet because Frank, as a jest, grabbed hold of the outstretched sleeve before Dante's arm was all the way in. "Hey!"  
Frank grinned broadly and let go.  
"Boys..." Blaise's deep voice had an annoyed undertone.  
"Hey, Pa..." Frank raised a brow questioningly, while Dante just paused, hoping there wasn't an unpleasant surprise right away so early in the morning.  
"Can you take care of the honey delivery?" Blaise asked, pulling a few folded sheets from the breast pocket of his overalls.  
"Sure." Frank said irritated. "But isn't Adam in charge of the honey?"  
Blaise rolled his eyes. "It's already bottled, kiddo, it's just a matter of packing the boxes. At the Braddocks, a couple of sheep have wandered off and we'll need all eyes to find them. And, of course, someone to take care of the animals here."  
Frank nodded and Dante said with a shrug:  
"Got it. It's not that hard. What time do we have to be ready?"  
"Jason will be here around eleven," Blaise replied, handing Dante the papers. "The boxes and upholstery material are already ready."  
"Okay..."

On the way to the shed where the honey supply was, Frank grumbled under his breath incomprehensibly, while Dante wondered what this farm actually _didn't_ have. He hadn't seen any hives or anything like that, but he wasn't really sure what they looked like either. Tom didn't seem overly enthusiastic as well, if his pained look was any indication, but without any outright grumbling, they got to work.

The whole thing was gradually turning into a disaster. The large and medium jars were round, the small ones hexagonal, like honeycombs, and this made it quite difficult to pack them all together into the boxes. Moreover, Dante, studying the papers, noted:  
"Wait a minute, something's wrong here."  
"What?", Tom wanted to know with a roll of his eyes, pausing because he had actually already wanted to get the handcarts.  
"There are always even numbers of jars in the storage boxes there, and we packed an even number of each of the large and medium ones... so why are there odd numbers left in both of them?" For a moment Dante and Tom looked at each other uneasily, then Frank gave an ominous sigh.  
"We'll have to check it. Otherwise the trouble will be on us."

They checked and re-sorted the boxes and jars and found a mistake, but now Tom asked:  
"Dante, how many small boxes are on your list? Five or six?"  
"Uh, seven... wait, where's the seventh box?"

So they started a second time to recount and match everything, and when they finished just before eleven, Tom grumbled:  
"I'd rather have been looking for sheep."  
Dante sighed and heaved a box onto the handcart. "I don't. I hear they're faster and nimbler than you'd think."  
"Yeah," Tom grinned broadly, "but so am I."  
Frank chuckled softly, while Dante gave Tom at least a wry smile.  
A few minutes later they were pulling the two handcarts across the farm. Blaise waved at them to hurry up- apparently Jason was already there.

Jason Parker, a small wiry man, leaned waiting beside his open van, next to him a young woman in a work coverall which was pretty much maxed out by her sensuous curves.  
"Hi, Frank." she said with a smile and Frank nodded back.  
"Hello, Lucia, hi, Jason."  
Jason nodded silently and patted the loading area promptly. There were already a couple of boxes in the very back and Dante was reaching for the first one on his handcart when Lucia, turning to Frank, asked:  
"Is the delivery okay?"  
"I hope so," he grumbled, looking to Dante, who pulled out the now richly crumpled papers.  
"We've counted and checked several times," he said, but Lucia merely gave him a disdainful look before literally snatching the papers out of his hand.  
"Damn." she said after a quick glance at them, and Dante got a bad feeling. "They'll raise a stink if something's wrong."  
Jason tapped against the van and, in surprise, Dante saw him make hand signals- apparently he was mute.  
Lucia nodded, gave a quick non-verbal response, then said sharply: "We'll check the boxes together."

Just as obvious as Lucia's dislike of working slaves was, was her interest in Frank, who, however, didn't care in the least. If the mood hadn't been so tense, Dante might have found the situation almost amusing. But really only almost...  
Tom was also tense and pulled a grim face.  
"You!", Lucia then barked at Dante.  
"Yes, miss?"  
"There's a small glass missing. Go and get it."  
"Yes, miss..." He grabbed a handcart and headed out. If the Parkers had had a schedule, it was now thoroughly out of sync, but basically that wasn't his problem. This damned meticulous check had been Lucia's idea, after all.

He took the handcart to the shed, grabbed a small honey jar, and crossed the grounds again; to save time, he slipped into the house through the back door- straight through was shorter than around on the outside.  
And then he nearly ran into Miss Britney.  
"What are you doing in here?" she asked angrily, and before a stunned Dante could respond, she added: "And what have you got there?"  
He raised the honey jar. "Miss Parker sent me out to get a missing jar," he said.  
"The Parkers left five minutes ago and Tom just told me everything was fine," Miss Britney said emphatically, and her tone alone told Dante he was in trouble.  
"Tom and Frank can testify that Miss Parker-"  
"Haven't you been listening to me?" Miss Britney interrupted him brusquely. "The Parkers left- with a correct delivery."  
Dante swallowed and nodded. "Okay..." Perhaps they had miscounted as well. He had probably passed Tom and Frank by trying to go through the house. Wait- when and where and how had Tom let Miss Britney know?  
"What's the matter?" Miss Carolyn wanted to know, turning the corner. With reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a thick pack of files under her arm, she looked unusually serious.  
Before Dante could open his mouth, Miss Britney had grabbed his wrist and pulled it up along with the honey jar in Dante's hand.  
"We've got a petty thief here with a crappy lies construct."


	10. Honey-sweet (whip)kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And again, way longer than I intended it to be... well, have fun :)

"Enough!" Miss Carolyn's voice turned to a screech and Dante raised his head in time to see her slap her daughter.   
Mistress Alice took a step back and touched her cheek with her fingertips, her face reddening and her lower lip trembling. Was it anger? Or shame? Humiliation? Dante wasn't sure, but after he had explained his point of view, the rest hadn't mattered. Punishments were decided by the women. He now understood why Tom had seemed so absent at his sentencing. Miss Carolyn had listened to Tom's version- he still knelt beside Dante- but she hadn't asked Frank. He sat slumped on the couch, intimidated; Miss Britney had put a hand on his arm- probably meant to be reassuring, but to Dante it seemed more like she was trying to keep him from talking.

_I didn't steal. I'm not lying._

It didn't matter. Now he was considered a thief and a liar and would be punished. He hadn't caught the sentence, but that didn't matter either. Twenty, twenty-five, thirty lashes or more - what difference did it make if he was unjustly punished?   
He received a smack on the back of the head. "Get up!", Miss Carolyn ordered him, and obviously not for the first time.   
He rose and looked at her, only to be promptly slapped in the face.   
"We can't have someone like you around here!"

_I didn't steal. I'm not lying._

Dante obediently lowered his eyes and listened only just enough to the shouted orders to follow those directed at him. It felt as if Miss Britney had taken not only the honey jar from him, but his emotions as well, for the flash in her eyes, her fine smile, and Tom's name had been enough to make him realize that he had no chance.   
However Tom had done it, but this was his revenge.   
Mistress Alice grabbed Dante's upper arm and escorted him out like this, and although he didn't understand what Miss Britney was saying, it couldn't have been anything nice, because his mistress's grip became exceedingly tight for a moment.

It took a while for the household to assemble.   
Dante was ordered to the center and undressed while Miss Carolyn told of attempted theft and lying.

_I didn't steal. I'm not lying._

Blaise tied Dante's hands together and hooked the rope. "Seriously, son, _honey_?" he muttered, and Dante thought he heard disappointment, but he didn't raise his eyes. Blaise sighed a warm cloud against his bare arms and disappeared.   
"Jessy," Miss Britney said overloud in the tense silence, "you count for us."   
If the girl answered, it did not get through to Dante. He had his eyes closed and was waiting for the first strike- it hit him square on the tense shoulders.

_I didn't steal. I'm not lying._

"One." Jessy said quietly.   
The second lash hit him in a crooked line above the hip.

_I didn't steal. I'm not lying._

"Two."   
The third lash hit his butt, the fourth hit the back of his knees.

_I didn't steal. I'm not lying._

_I didn't steal. I'm not lying._

_I didn't steal. I'm not lying._

It was an echo reverberating in his head, so loud that there was no room left for anything else.   
Tom had gotten his revenge- nice for him.   
Dante had fallen for the game- not so nice, but couldn't be helped.   
His mistress had wanted to protect him- laudable, but she too had to obey her matriarch.   
Miss Carolyn protected her property- perfectly natural.   
The question why he had believed that he and Tom could become friends after all, he had already pushed aside unanswered earlier. He didn't belong here, was a glittering foreign body in this natural world, and wasn't it normal that such things happened to put this troublemaker in his place?

Dante blinked- and blinked again, for the image he saw made no sense. He was moving toward the house, but he was not aware that he was walking. His head was somehow hanging too crooked for that, too, and anyway... was he being carried? Only a rushing sound filled his ears, his mouth was dry, the world was swaying.

~

The buzzing in Dante's ears became voices from time to time, mainly Mistress Alice's voice, which kept calling his name.   
But now she was accompanied by another woman. "As I was saying, Miss Mitchell- it happens. But the slaves who manage this feat mostly prefer death over coming back," the woman explained sternly.   
"No, Dante does not," Mistress Alice objected.   
"Then," the woman sighed resignedly, "you can try to bring him back. You can order him to, but as I said- he must want to."   
"I'll try, thank you very much," Mistress Alice gave back, now almost coolly, and footsteps moved away, a door clicking shut.   
Dante felt nothing at all, and his sleepy-eyed mind wondered if his mistress had really been so gracious as to force painkillers into him. Only then did the spoken words really seep into his brain, but before he had time to think about it, the footsteps came back.   
A sigh. "Oh, Dante... you're really costing me nerves." Mistress Alice sighed again, something cracked, and then very close to his head she said: "Dante, open your eyes."   
He blinked at her involuntarily, saw the relief on her face.   
"Great Mother..." she whispered, touching him gently on the cheek. "You've been completely out of it for _two days_ , Dante. Doc Willers says you've been detached from your body because you..." She paused, and Dante could do nothing but look at her, her crystal blue eyes and her lips so beautifully curved in a forced smile, yet with a slight tremor. "I'm sorry. I'm not a good mistress."   
Dante wanted to disagree, but his mouth didn't come close to obeying him.   
Mistress Alice lowered her eyes, her fingers sliding from his cheek into his hair, but the touch was faint, as if it were little more than imagination. "I should have... I... Ma is..."   
Stunned, he saw tears shimmer in her eyes, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't move a muscle to comfort her.   
"I can't just leave." she whispered, looking at him intently. Somehow, this confused him.   
Footsteps sounded again and Dante managed to turn his head enough to see Seth handing Mistress Alice a large cup with a straw.   
"Thank you." she said quietly, and Seth withdrew. "Drink." she then turned to Dante and held the straw to his lips. Obediently, he opened his mouth and closed it around the thin plastic. "Broth. Like I said, you've been completely out for two days and to feed you something when you can't be turned on your back... well."   
He took a sip, only now realizing how dry his mouth had been. Greasy, rich meat broth made his taste buds explode.   
"I'm sorry," she then repeated. She looked shaken. "Ma wouldn't even listen to Frank... but I know you didn't steal. Honey... this is _ridiculous_." Of course it was. He had free access to the kitchen and basement pantries, why would he steal a jar of honey?   
He continued to drink his broth, trying to place what his mistress had revealed there in a few words.   
"Can you speak?" she asked gently.   
"Tom..." was the first word he managed to get out.   
"Yes," she nodded, " _Tom_. Maybe he let Britney in on part of his plan, maybe it was a spontaneous action with a happy coincidence, I don't know." She gritted her teeth and lowered her eyes so he drank of the broth again. "Doc Willers said some slaves would succeed in detaching themselves from their bodies in situations like yours. Most die because they can't find their way back or don't want to. I beg you, come back."   
They looked at each other, but he felt nothing, only inner emptiness. As if he consisted merely of a disembodied head.   
"Not for _me_." she then suddenly added, with a wry smile that immediately disappeared. "I'm a terrible mistress. But Frank... Ma punished Frank."   
"Why?", Dante wanted to know, dumbfounded, since Frank had apparently not been allowed to comment on the incident.   
"Because he took your side. After the event, but he did. He went after Tom."   
"He _what?_ " A strange jolt went through Dante, sickening pain seeping through to him from far away.   
"Verbally. But he did. Ma's awfully mad, and Britney..." Mistress Alice sighed, "It's all out of place here right now."   
"Because of me," Dante muttered, and she nodded. He realized that his mistress was staying on the farm to protect her little brother, who either wouldn't be allowed to leave- free man or not- or wouldn't want to leave. "You should sell me," he suggested, and she sighed.   
"I can't."   
"Why not?"   
Now it was she who looked at him in surprise. "Slaves sold through transit merchants are restricted from being sold for four months. Since this was your first time with a middleman, you're subject to a six months ban," she explained seriously.   
"That means..." he said strained and his mouth went dry again, "I'm stuck here."   
"Whether I wanted to sell you or not, yes." She tilted her head in agreement. "When your restricted period is up, we can talk about it again. But it's still true- or truer than ever- what I said a few days ago: Frank likes you. He didn't just bust Tom's chops for the sake of justice."   
"I didn't do anything to justify his trust," Dante muttered weakly; the dull ache growing stronger, demanding attention.   
Mistress Alice sighed and shrugged before stroking his forehead. "I can't judge that, Dante. I can only see that my brother likes you. Now... drink up your broth, will you? If you're planning on surviving here, you're going to need your strength."

~

Dante very obviously found back to himself and with this came the pain. The next two days Mistress Alice took care of him carefully, but said almost nothing. Dante had a slight impression that she wanted to undo their conversation after he woke up. She gave him mild painkillers to help him sleep, and Valentine stopped by briefly on each of the two days. The touch on his gloved hands was professional and by no means as careful as the welts demanded.

"At least Blaise was prudent enough to let you sit in a couple of days," he murmured on his third visit, stroking a welt on Dante's butt before his fingers traveled down his thighs to the back of his knees.   
Sitting sounded good. After Seth had made him pee in a bottle, Dante had forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom the next time, tearing open several welts.   
"Move gently."   
A sinuous motion ran over Dante's body, just as Valentine had demanded the first time.   
"Okay..." A few careful touches here and there on the back.   
Mistress Alice made a questioning sound in the background.   
"Okay. Two or three times a day the ointment, very thin, no more washes. That sassy hothead of yours has got ants on his pants." Valentine sounded a little amused and condescending, but at the same time he made Dante feel like his healing was going well.   
He turned his head a little. "Thank you, sir."   
Valentine nodded at him. "Since there's no inflammation at all so far, it looks really good. But besides your body, you should also take care of your pride."   
Before Dante could reply, Valentine turned away and pulled off his gloves on the way out. Mild anger flared in Dante, but he pushed it aside. His mistress didn't have to do this, didn't have to lift a finger for him, didn't have to bother Seth or Valentine or anyone. But she did, anointing his back, helping him stand up and lie down, bringing him food and water. He knew of no mistress- neither his own, former ones, nor other women- who would have done such a thing for a slave she had not even wanted. Immediately after that came the question of why she did it, and he found no satisfactory answer to it, for he knew too little for that.

Not long after Valentine had left, Mistress Alice returned and gave him a weak smile.   
"I have... news."   
"What kind, Mistress?" He was uncomfortably aware that he had lacked respect and gratitude toward her, though admittedly he lacked the proper ways to express it as well.   
"I'm going on a trip with Val for a few days."   
"Oh." That didn't sound good- not good to him.   
"Not right now," she said quickly. "In about two weeks."   
He nodded slowly; by then he would be healed enough to return to work.   
"A few things I still have to think about and... Well. I wanted to give you a heads up." She nodded, smiling wryly, and he nodded as well.   
"Thank you, Mistress."   
A knock forestalled any further words, and with a slight frown Mistress Alice disappeared toward the door.   
Frank's deep voice reached Dante's ears as a hum and a little later he entered.   
Dante turned as far as the pain in his shoulders and upper back would allow, but his smile froze when he saw the ugly bruise on Frank's lower jaw; there was a scratch on his right cheek that reminded Dante very much of the scar on his own cheek- stone-studded rings were painful.   
Frank's smile collapsed as well, and uncertainly he stopped beside the bed, kneading his fingertips. "How are you feeling?" he finally asked, while Dante was still busy pushing the equally ridiculous and terrifying image of Miss Carolyn beating her son, who was a good two heads taller, out of his mind.   
"I've been better," Dante replied, somehow conjuring up a smile on his lips again. "But I've been a lot worse, too."   
"...good." Frank nodded.   
"Ma has-" Dante began, but Frank interrupted him brusquely:   
"I disagreed with her decision. I deserved it." For a tiny moment, a somber storm flitted across his face, and for that same tiny moment, he looked considerably older than he was. Dante sensed a certain fire in Frank, deeply hidden and concealed, but that was hardly surprising considering Miss Carolyn and Miss Britney.   
"Thank you." he said simply, and Frank nodded gravely.   
"May I?"   
"What?"   
"The ointment."   
"Oh, sure." Dante nodded and Frank reached for the jar of ointment on the nightstand before kneeling beside the bed and pulling away the thin blanket. Hissing, he sucked in the air and Dante knew again why he hadn't even bothered to look in the mirror.   
"Surely this isn't the first time you've seen something like this..." he said cautiously nonetheless, with a questioning undertone.   
Frank sniffled before replying, "No. But it looks bad. And... if I'd said something earlier, you might have been spared this."   
"I guess not." Dante shook his head gently and turned a bit to get a better look at Frank. "Ma still would have punished you for talking back, and maybe punished me on top of that for inciting you to lie."   
Frank contorted his face in agony and twisted the lid off the jar of ointment. Although he made no verbal reply, Dante was sure Frank agreed with him inwardly.   
He lay back down neatly and Frank cleared his throat.   
"Let me know if I hurt you, okay?"   
"Okay." Dante nodded at that and gave Frank an encouraging smile, who nodded back and then slowly and carefully spread the cool ointment on the topmost welt. After a moment, the highly concentrated expression gave way to an almost dreamy face. Dante, on the other hand, closed his eyes. Yes, the touches hurt, but it was bearable, and anyway: Frank was infinitely gentle and careful, almost tender. Although Dante was freezing without the thin blanket and actually did nothing but _nothing_ all day, he dozed off.

Dante only realized that he had dozed off when he opened his eyes and suddenly found himself looking at the wall instead of Frank. He was massaging Dante's neck with his fingertips at that moment, gently rubbing the places where the heavy slave collar rested, and then very slowly wandering along Dante's spine, skipping over the welts. When he reached waist level, Dante got goose bumps and a shiver ran down his spine as the fingertips reached his tailbone.   
To be touched so gently was nice. Still, he turned his head and before he had finished the movement, Frank withdrew his hand.   
Frank was flushed and whispered sheepishly: "I'm sorry."   
"Nothing to apologize for," Dante returned softly. The touching itself was really nice, no doubt about it, but the circumstances unsettled him a little. Why had Frank done this? Had he noticed that Dante had been dozing off? Probably, or he probably wouldn't have done it- and that was a little disconcerting.   
An embarrassed silence hung in the air, then Frank very carefully pulled the blanket back over Dante's body.   
"Thanks."   
Frank smiled, still embarrassed. "Look..." He pulled something out of the pocket of his sweatpants and held it out to Dante. He sucked in a hissing breath as he recognized the small honey jar, which looked actually tiny in Frank's big hand.   
"Frank!"   
"I figured if you were going to steal honey, I could bring some by for you." He punctuated his words with a conspiratorial wink.   
"That's a pretty painful joke, Frank." Dante grumbled, more annoyed than delighted, but Frank passed over the objection completely.   
"It's raining."   
"And?"   
"You see"- he opened the jar, dipped his non-ointment-smeared left forefinger into the honey, and held it up to Dante's face- "I'm made of sugar after all."   
Dante couldn't quite follow his train of thought, and he blinked in confusion first at the golden honey and then at Frank, who was now grinning wryly.   
"Honey is made of sugar."   
"I know..." Dante said slowly, still confused.   
Frank's finger came closer. "Come on..."   
If Dante misunderstood the request, it would turn embarrassing now. He opened his mouth and hastily licked off a bit of honey. "Exquisitely sweet." The heavy aroma of honey filled his mouth and seemed to stick all the way down to his stomach as he swallowed.   
Frank grinned, but didn't withdraw his finger. "Told you. I'm made of sugar."   
Dante shook his head, but grinned as well, doing Frank the favor of licking- or rather sucking- on it a second time, as the viscous honey crept sluggishly along Frank's finger.   
But this time Frank withdrew the arm- including not overlookable goose bumps- and then put the finger into his mouth himself. A fine blush crept into his cheeks.   
Dante thought the whole situation pretty weird, but found no words.   
"I'll be off then..." Frank muttered instead, now obviously a little confused himself, placing the jar of honey next to the jar of ointment on the bedside table and rising.   
"You can't leave it here!" Dante protested, bracing himself despite the pain. This was all he needed, for someone to find a jar of honey on him now, of all times.   
Instead of an answer, Frank stowed the honey almost rudely in the drawer and hurried out.   
Confused, Dante looked after him; he had no idea what kind of strange action that had just been.

~

Carefully, Dante sat down on his bed and exhaled slowly. He was finally wearing a shirt and loose shorts on his body again, he could sit and move reasonably pain free, although he still spent most of his time laying on his belly on the bed. Tonight, he would even get to eat downstairs with the others again. His stomach growled at the thought and he was just considering asking Mistress Alice for an apple or something when Mistress Alice entered her room and said loudly:   
"Dante, you have a visitor."   
"Visitor?" he echoed in irritation and stood up, even more irritated by the clanking of chains. Puzzled, he paused in his doorway.   
Tom was just entering Mistress Alice's room, his hands tied behind his back and with chains on his feet which must truly make climbing stairs an adventure.   
"What do you want here?", Dante wanted to know tonelessly.   
"Talking.", Tom answered neutrally.   
Mistress Alice pursed her lips. "I keep an ear on you."   
Dante stepped back into his little room almost reluctantly and Tom followed, managing to close the door to a crack. "Speak.", Dante prompted him. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to or wanted to face Tom. That the work slave was in heavy chains was almost disturbing.   
"We're even," Tom said quietly.   
"Even?" Dante echoed incredulously.   
"At least in my reckoning," Tom explained, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I mean, we can keep this going, too, but I'm afraid it's rather unhealthy in the long run."   
"Excuse me, but _you_ started this shit," Dante said, now clearly annoyed, and Tom sighed.   
"Yeah. I know. Sorry."   
Dante snorted. "As if."   
Tom took a deep breath. "We... got each other off on the wrong foot, okay? And... I didn't realize Frank liked you that much."   
"Are you jealous?" Dante tried to make it sound mocking, but didn't really succeed.   
Tom shook his head. "Bullshit. But to make a long story short, can we start over? In all honesty? As friends?"   
"I don't know why." replied Dante brittle, pressing his lips together.   
"For Frank." was the prompt reply. "Look, I willingly let myself be put in chains so I could talk to you, and only _now_ because Frank's tantrum has been ringing in my ears for so long. I recognize that you are an intelligent guy and a... welcome helping hand. And that Frank wants you as a friend. Okay?"   
"I don't trust you."   
With a soft sigh, Tom nodded and moved closer; with effort, Dante didn't budge and stared darkly into Tom's eyes.   
Being kissed was the last thing he expected. The warm sensation spreading from his mouth to his stomach and then to his toes ranked right behind. "What... was that?" he mumbled stupidly after Tom leaned back.   
"A peace offering. But I guess the common word is _kiss_."   
"Idiot."   
Tom grinned. "Now and then."   
Dante licked his lips and was about to say something, but Tom asked quietly:   
"You're not wearing a cage, right?"   
"Don't even think about it! You seriously think I'm going to let your teeth anywhere near my dick?" Dante hissed, again resisting the urge to back away.   
"Some guys are into it." Tom shrugged and smiled wryly. "No, really: I swear to you, I'll never touch you again unless you want me to. You and me, we're equals. Well, except for a few privileges."   
"We're not equals," Dante objected quietly, but he knew he was really just saying that for the sake of principle. And judging by the look on Tom's face, he knew that too. "What do you want from me?", Dante wanted to know after a moment, fearing he already knew the answer.   
But Tom smiled wryly again. "Anything you're willing to give."   
Dante nodded and swallowed. Mistress Alice was next door and probably pricking up her ears, but that aside, she'd probably sell him at the end of his restriction period if he really asked for it or if Tom misbehaved. Taking a calculated risk was something he could afford to do.   
He leaned over and kissed Tom, who flinched slightly, but then almost immediately opened his lips and welcomed Dante's tongue. A warm tingle filled Dante's belly, the desire for a gentle touch or warm embrace. He broke the kiss. "I accept your peace offering," he murmured, and Tom smiled in relief.   
"You taste like honey." he noted in wonder, and Dante grinned. Before Tom's appearance, he had been in the bathroom not only to pee, but also to wash the honey off his fingers which he had been savoring earlier. He didn't say that, though.   
"You know, honey is considered a divine gift. And _Dante_ is a son of the Great Mother."   
"So I was just touched by the divine."   
"Idiot. I'm not that arrogant." Grinning, Dante gave him a pat on the chest and Tom laughed as he took a cautious step back.   
"Thanks, Dante."   
"I hope you mean it."   
Tom nodded silently and licked his lips as if searching for something there.   
A small selfish part of Dante hoped it was the touch of his lips.


	11. Changing faces

"If you keep this up, the welts will never heal."   
"And you obviously have nothing better to do than stare at my backside, hmm?"   
"No." Tom's grin was clearly audible and Dante rolled his eyes, invisible to Tom, as he smoothed out the pillowcase on the clothesline. Before bending down for the matching blanket cover- the last item in the basket- he glanced over his shoulder. Tom was leaning in the doorway, arms folded in front of his chest, watching Dante work. His posture, his look, his smile- there was something possessive about it. Something demanding.   
_'I'll only take what you're willing to give.'_ Sure you will, my friend.   
Dante returned the smile, took the last piece of laundry and stepped further into the laundry room before tossing the cover over the high hanging line; he felt the strain and tension in the scabbed welts. A soft sound of bare feet on smooth floor came closer and he smiled to himself- Tom was predictable. And now that they were out of sight from the door, Dante was not surprised to find Tom's hands coming to rest on his waist. Unconcerned, Dante smoothed out the bed cover before leaning against Tom, who made a warm embrace of it.   
Nuzzling behind Dante's ear, he whispered: "You smell good..."   
Dante hummed in agreement, after all Mistress Alice had bought him a new set of bathroom products and yes, damn, the stuff was expensive and smelled indescribably masculine-sweet-good.   
Tom kissed him behind the ear, a little down the neck, until Dante turned his head and their mouths found each other. Dante would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy Tom's attention, his kisses, his hugs. It was an incredible feeling to be wanted, to see the hunger in Tom's eyes when he couldn't control himself and let one of the stolen kisses get out of hand.   
Tom's hand slipped into Dante's pants and although he had Dante's dick in his hand for the moment, it was Dante who held the reins. For _he_ was the one without a cage, the one with the mistress he could ask for things, who had assured him of her backing with just a few words after he had made peace with Tom. Tom knew that. They played with each other, but so far, without a doubt, Dante was the winner. He took, but he did not give. However, he wasn't sure what Tom was truly interested in here.   
"Don't..." he mumbled as he got hard way too fast under Tom's gentle touch. "I need to get back upstairs."   
Sighing, Tom withdrew his hand. "Maybe next time your mistress goes on a trip, we'll be far enough along that she'll leave us my key."   
A little irritated, Dante turned in his arms while he carefully let his hard-on become invisible. "It sounds like this is going to come down to a relationship."   
A strange smile flitted across Tom's face. "If that's what you want, that would be nice..." False shyness: failed.   
"That would be permissible?"   
"Who cares about a work slave and a whatever slave whose mistress is ironclad monogamous? No, wait, that sounds crappier than it is. No one cares because it basically never happens. The thing is, most slaves get their cage so early that they never develop any real sexuality, and if they do, it dies off sooner or later."   
"Not with you, obviously," Dante teased, and Tom smiled.   
"Not with you, either." He stroked Dante's cheek tenderly- small gestures like this almost made Dante forget that he didn't trust Tom any farther than he could throw him. But he hungered for attention, for affection, and he leaned involuntarily into the touch. "Little liberties and concessions are good for morale, Dante, women know that," Tom murmured, leaning in to kiss Dante, but heavy footsteps on the basement stairs made him pause.   
They backed away from each other and Dante grabbed the laundry basket to take it back to the adjacent laundry room. In the hallway, he paused.   
"Frank?"   
Frank pulled off his shirt as he walked and half turned around. "Hey..."   
"What happened?", Dante wanted to know and started moving again.   
"Hrmph. Britney bought a new slave." Frank looked anything but thrilled.   
"I thought they wouldn't buy a new one until Adam or Douglas were sent to the retirement house," Tom piped up in surprise.   
"He's not a work slave." Frank returned somberly and Tom quietly went _'oh'_ while Dante put the basket away and pulled a fresh shirt for Frank from the _'to be ironed'_ pile.   
"So what exactly happened?" he wanted to know, accepting the wet shirt and tossing it into the matching basket.   
"Ethan spilled my juice all over my shirt." Now he was back to being the boy who was interested in adult concerns only as far as they related to himself.   
"So Ethan will be... sold?" Dante asked cautiosly and saw both Frank and Tom nod. He swallowed as pity filled his stomach. Ethan had been here for nearly thirteen years as Miss Britney's personal slave, he should have been Jessy's father and even though he wasn't, he raised the girl with all the love he could muster. Dante and Ethan may not exactly be friends and may never become, but this was hard.

He followed Frank back upstairs and made as unobtrusive as possible a detour to the living room. There Miss Carolyn sat at the table, a calculator and notepad before her; Blaise stood behind her with a slightly guilty expression. Miss Britney seemed to be pacing restlessly, and beside the couch, kneeling in perfect posture, was a young man with dark brown hair.   
Dante immediately retreated and headed for the kitchen. Ethan, Daniel and TJ were sitting at the table, Mikey was leaning against the fridge chewing on a fingernail, Seth was standing kind of indecisively in the middle of the room and turned to Dante.   
"What does it look like?" he asked with the calmness of experience, and Dante shrugged.   
"Looks like Miss Carolyn is calculating things."   
Ethan sobbed dry and buried his face in his hands, awkwardly TJ patted his arm.   
Seth nodded thoughtfully and Dante joined the tense waiting group for good, leaning against one of the kitchen counters and keeping his eyes on the door.

It was a long time before Miss Carolyn appeared. An unusually gentle expression was on her round face and she nodded to Seth before saying: "Ethan, come with me, please. Seth, wait here, will you? The rest of you go to bed."   
"Yes, miss."   
"Yes, mistress."   
Somehow Dante had expected something different, but this was just a tad more personal than the procedure he knew from the past. But maybe that came later; after all, Miss Britney had caught her mother off guard with her apparently very impulsive purchase, and a slave didn't sell himself with a snap of fingers. Dante glanced at Ethan, who was for real crying silently now, looked at Seth, who nodded at him encouragingly, and then half bowed to his matriarch before leaving the kitchen.

~

Usually, the other house slaves appeared for breakfast preparations just as Frank was leaving, but today even Daniel, who was usually the first, didn't show up and Dante couldn't help a certain uneasiness creeping up the back of his neck.   
"Good morning."   
He winced and almost dropped the tea can he was about to put back in the cupboard. "Morning." he said in surprise, seeing the new slave standing in the doorway.   
_Flynn._ That was all Mistress Alice had been able to say either.   
Flynn was wearing a charcoal gray shirt which seemed a size too small, and dark green loose pants of a strangely wrinkled fabric, with matching slippers. Beneath the dark brown stubble which merged into what had once been a fine chin beard, he appeared to be very young- perhaps he was not even of age.   
As no further response came, Dante indicated a nod and put the tea can away, closing the cupboard and returning to the kettle, which by now was bubbling audibly.   
"I need breakfast for my mistress," Flynn finally said in the slightly condescending tone of a pleasure slave who was waited on from dawn to dusk- almost like his mistress. Dante had learned to hate that manner.  
"The kitchen is at your free disposal," he said coolly over his shoulder, grabbing a teaspoon to put honey in Mistress Alice's teacup.   
"I don't know what she wants."   
"Well, neither do I." Dante half-turned and punctuated his words with a shrug; Flynn still stood in the doorway as if the kitchen were a forbidden place. This young man had certainly never had his hands in the dishwater for hours or scrubbed floors. The kettle clicked quietly over the loud bubbling and Dante turned to his own duty; he was rescued by Seth in the background.   
"Flynn... is there a problem?"   
"I'm supposed to get breakfast for Mistress Britney." Again, that condescending tone.   
"Well, before getting, there's preparing," Seth said seriously.   
Dante grabbed Mistress Alice's heavy teacup, then gave Seth a smile.   
"Toast is there on the shelf, the toaster is behind the cover there. There are plates, there's cutlery. Jam's in the fridge.", Seth explained with little finger pointing, and Dante just caught sight of Flynn's aghast face before he left the kitchen.

~

"You must have gained some experience with pleasure slaves in Denser's Port, right?", TJ wanted to know after a cautious glance over his shoulder and Dante nodded.   
"They get their brains trained into their dicks and the muscles are just for looking at."   
Mikey chuckled silly from the table and Dante grinned wryly at him before joining him with a cutting board and knife.   
"Really?"   
"Really. Miss Britney accused me on my first day of just standing around looking pretty, but that's truer of pleasure slaves. The ones I know can't do _anything_." He reached for the broccoli to cut it into florets, and Mikey chuckled again.   
"He's really going to have fun here," TJ remarked dryly, clinking the spice jars to season the minced meat for the meatballs.   
"Probably," Dante agreed with him.   
" _Probably_ \- what?" Seth asked curiously.   
Dante saw by Mikey's expression that Flynn was here, too, so he said politely: "We talked about Flynn probably fitting in here as easily as me."   
Mikey spluttered over the potato he was peeling, and TJ sighed.   
"He ate a clown for breakfast today."   
Seth, on the other hand, snorted, unconvinced by Dante's answer. "If by _fitting in well_ you mean getting whipped twice already in a matter of weeks, I don't want to know what a difficult start looks like for you."   
"A difficult start is when you're told right on your second day by your mistress's favorite pleasure slave that you don't even need to unpack your clothes," Dante replied coolly, and Mikey choked on his giggle.   
Seth sighed deeply. "Flynn, go sit with them and dice up some onions for TJ. And then-"   
"Onions?" Flynn sounded horrified.   
"You know, those round things making you cry when you cut them," TJ said casually, and Dante regretted not being able to see Flynn's face. The boy hesitantly but smoothly sat down next to Dante at the table and Seth was gracious enough to hand him a cutting board, a knife and three onions.   
"I don't like broccoli," Flynn then declared critically, and Dante gave him a quick glance.   
"Don't have to eat vegetables."   
"Aren't there any choices?"   
"Eat or don't eat."   
Mikey chuckled again and Dante had to smile too as Flynn shot an annoyed look across the table.   
"Guys, get along," Seth admonished from the refrigerator.   
"You have to _peel_ the onions first...", Dante said kindly and Flynn finally looked at the onions now.   
"Like an apple?"   
Mikey laughed again.   
"No..." Dante had thought he himself wouldn't fit in here on the farm, but Flynn...   
"Don't pull faces like that, Great Mother, or Mistress Carolyn will put her foot down and sell all of you," Seth grumbled, while Mikey forgot his potatoes from laughing so hard.

~

The day had been exhausting for all the house slaves, and Flynn was rubbing up the wrong way- it certainly wasn't intentional, and he probably didn't even always realize it, but Dante could see Seth's approaching despair. Ethan, whom they had only gotten to see at mealtimes, would leave a big gap.   
As a final act of the day, Dante took Flynn down to the basement to unload the washing machine. Seth had explained the machine to him earlier, but judging by the look on Flynn's face, Dante guessed not much of it had stuck.   
"So, you haven't been here long..." Flynn started a little stiffly as Dante opened the washing machine and slid the laundry basket underneath. "Where are you from?"   
"Denser's Port."   
"That's... pretty far away."   
"Yup." Dante pulled the wet laundry into the basket and gave Flynn a prompting look, which the boy ignored- instead, again with a condescending expression on his face (probably his standard, Dante thought), he looked toward the door.   
"Ah, there's the fresh meat," Tom said with the same condescension. "Are they going to change out the whole staff now?"   
"I don't think so. No one else would want _you_ anyway," Dante scoffed, grinning at Tom. "Now let us do some work."   
"Hey, hey... I don't think my eyes are going to stop you from working. What's your name, sweetie?"   
At the salutation, Flynn's face contorted disdainfully. "Flynn." He almost spat the word at Tom's feet.   
"You shouldn't mess with Tom," Dante said casually, and since the situation certainly wasn't going to resolve itself within the next few seconds, he left the heavy laundry basket for now.   
"No.", Tom agreed with him and grinned. "You know, sweetie-"   
"Flynn."   
"- I've got a trained bodyguard, the master of the house, and the son of the house on my side."   
"Well, now, don't get carried away," Dante admonished gently. Now that he could practically look at it as an outsider, Tom's behavior seemed almost territorial.   
"You told me you were a bodyguard," Tom defended himself, and Dante rolled his eyes.   
"That's not what I meant."   
"If you're a bodyguard... were... then what are you doing here?", Flynn wanted to know skeptically.   
"I've messed with bed bunnies like you one too many times," Dante said dryly, picking up the laundry basket after all.   
"Dante's got balls, you know," Tom explained sternly.   
"Great Mother, Tom, why don't you just shut up?"   
"Why? You've got balls, I know it. Unless, of course, you've lost them since the last time I checked."   
"Tom..." With an annoyed look, Dante walked past him and got a pat on the butt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tom half bow to Flynn as he tried to follow him.   
"I look forward to testing your services."   
Flynn hissed an unintelligible reply.   
"My, my... don't be so aggressive," Tom purred, and Dante sighed.   
"Tom, that's enough."   
Tom laughed, pressed a kiss to Dante's cheek and disappeared with an affected wave.   
"Is he always like this?", Flynn wanted to know quietly after they reached the next room.   
"No. Right now, he was in a good mood."   
Even in the lousy lighting, Dante saw Flynn turn pale. "Great Mother, such behavior is disgusting."   
"Which part of his behavior do you mean?"   
"This..."- he made a sweeping gesture- " _everything_! You belong to Miss Alice! How dare he touch you! He's just a _worker_!"   
Dante half-lowered the blouse he had just slid onto a hanger, and asked seriously: "What kind of training house are you from?"   
"An open one." was the pinched reply, and Dante pressed his lips together for a moment. Open training houses for pleasure slaves meant nothing more than renting out their charges by the hour for training purposes and for little money.   
After a breath, Dante turned back to the laundry and said coolly: "That makes you nothing more than an underage whore and you should be careful about throwing prejudice around. I may be a personal slave, but I still work with Tom and Frank. _Outside_."   
Flynn was speechless for a moment. "You _let_ him touch you..." Obviously, this went against everything he had been taught.   
"Yeah. And? That's _my_ choice, you know." Dante hung up another blouse.   
"Your mistress... I mean, how dare you?"   
"I don't understand your problem."   
"Men serve their mistresses, Dante, and don't mess around with other slaves! How dare you betray her like that?"   
Despite the vehemence of the words, Dante merely raised a brow. "My mistress is happiest when she doesn't see me during the day and can sleep in peace at night. She doesn't care what I do as long as I follow orders, behave myself, and don't get on her nerves." Perhaps a bit crassly put, but true to the core. Now Flynn actually seemed as if his world had been turned upside down.   
"Men," he whispered, "are only allowed to experience pleasure through their mistress."   
"What fanatical fringe group do you belong to?", Dante wanted to know skeptically, and promptly Flynn grimaced.   
"I serve my mistress as the Great Mother intended me to as a man."   
Dante nodded thoughtfully. "Well, then... have fun."   
Something flashed in Flynn's eyes, and Dante silently wondered if he had just blown it with a bed bunny for the umpteenth time.

~

The zipper of Mistress Alice's travel bag buzzed; Mistress Alice sighed.   
Dante stood by attentively, giving her a confident smile as she looked at him thoughtfully.   
"I'm still not sure it's a good idea to leave you here without a cage."   
"If it makes you feel better, just put it on me." Dante indicated a shrug, and she sighed again.   
"I'm afraid it would take certain decisions away from you."  
"What do you mean?"   
"Come on, how long is Tom going to be satisfied with making out?"   
Dante blushed, but replied firmly: "He'll take a _no_ for an answer."   
"Are you sure about that?" Mistress Alice raised a brow skeptically. "And if so, how often?"   
"Blaise no longer has access to his key."   
"Oh, _come on_ , Dante, don't be so naive! Ma doesn't care one bit whether the slaves can wash themselves properly downstairs or not. It didn't take Pa three days to get the key power back." She shook her head. "But well, I told you I wouldn't interfere with this. Your business. But be warned, Tom has his pride and your little game can't go on forever."   
"I know." Dante returned, trying not to make a face.   
"I'm not so sure about that..." Mistress Alice grabbed her bag and stepped in front of Dante, so close that he could smell the cherry scent of her deodorant. "You're a free man at heart, Dante," she said quietly, putting a hand on his chest, "and we really ought to thank the Great Mother every day for adding a smart and sensible brain to you. But Tom is not only free in heart, but also in mind. Before he came here, he was a free man. Keep that in mind when you try to twist each other around your fingers, will you?"   
"Yes, Mistress." Dante murmured, dumbfounded, and winced when she kissed him on the cheek.   
"Be good while I'm gone."   
"Yes, Mistress." He nodded, she patted his chest and then just walked away without even giving him a chance to carry her bag.   
Tom had been free? That probably explained a lot. The intriguing question was what had happened to make him a slave- but Dante wouldn't ask him directly about that for all the money in the world.


	12. Dramatis Personae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overview of the characters of this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you find something that seems wrong or if you have questions/suggestions, just tell me.

  * Dante Jeremy Sapphire (26) 
    * family: unknown
  * Alice Mitchell (25) 
    * Anthony: her twinbrother, deceased
  * Carolyn Mitchell/ Ma 
    * Charlotte: her mother, deceased
    * Michael "Mikey" Washington: education-slave (16)
    * TJ: personal Slave
  * Blaise/Pa: Carolyn's husband
  * Britney (32)  

    * Jessy: her daughter (8)  

      * Jordan: Charlotte's personal slave, Jessy's father, got sold, current status: unknown
    * Ethan: personal slave (32)
    * Flynn: personal (pleasure) slave (18)
  * Sarah (29): pregnant  

    * Maisie: her daughter (9)
    * Jack: her son (5)
    * Daniel: personal slave, father of Maisie, Jack and the to-be-born child
  * Frank (23)
  * Seth: overseer of the house
  * Tom (29): work slave, once a free man
  * Valentine "Val" Washington (24): Alice's boyfriend/fiancé, Mikey's oldest brother  

    * Wilma: his mother
    * Julianna: High Priestess, his aunt
    * Tobias (21): his younger brother
    * Constantin (19): his younger brother
    * uncle, aunt, female cousin
  * Adam, Douglas: old workslaves close to retirement
  * Chris, Sawyer, Dennis and others: workslaves
  * Dawn Braddock Senior: Matriarch
  * Dawn Braddock Junior 
    * Garry: her husband
    * Patrick „Pax“ & Benjamin „Biscuit“ (19): her twins
    * Rose (16): her daughter
  * Delilah: Dawn's younger sister  

    * Carter: her husband, Carolyn's younger brother
    * Ginger (18): her daughter
  * Maggie Horner (20) 
    * Charles: her father
    * Robert: her uncle, Charles' brother
    * Arianna: Matriarch, Maggie's grandmother
    * Matthew (28): Maggie's older brother
  * Lucia Parker (22)  

    * Jason: her father, mute




	13. A touch of family

"But I don't want yellow!" Jack scowled.  
"But with yellow, we'll do the stars and the moons and then we'll put the blue in and it'll be green and then we'll do the trees and the apples," Maisie reprimanded him.  
"I like red apples better though.", Jessy explained and Jack nagged:  
"I want it purple!"  
"Maisie is right, we'll start with yellow," Daniel stated firmly and Dante grinned at the foam on the dishwater.  
"We need more powdered sugar," Jessy made herself heard and Flynn obediently said:  
"I'm working on it." Above the general noise level, Dante could hear Flynn scraping the powdered sugar through a sieve. He wasn't sure who had come up with the idea of having the kids bake cookies and having both Ethan and Flynn there, but so far it was going surprisingly peacefully- which was probably because Ethan was saying practically nothing and Flynn was merely making responses like he had just made.  
Dante washed the stuff which wasn't allowed in the dishwasher and otherwise stayed out of it.  
Mikey was visiting family, TJ was escorting Miss Carolyn into town, and Seth was busy with whatever.

Dante was about to dry his hands when Jessy came up beside him.  
"Hey, Dante, would you like a cookie?"  
"If I may..." He smiled at her and with a serious smile she looked back; a strand of her dark blonde hair had come loose and she brushed it back as she held out a cookie to Dante. "Thank you..."  
"Not with dirty fingers!" she rebuked him.  
"They're not dirty, just wet."  
"Anyway!" She held the cookie higher and with an inward sigh he tried to take a bite, only to have the whole cookie in star shape and with still wet frosting immediately stuffed into his mouth.  
"Thanks..." he mumbled around the cookie, trying hard not to sound sarcastic.  
"You don't talk with your mouth full.", Jessy retorted pointedly, turning away so he could give her back an eye roll.  
"Are there almonds in there?" he wanted to know with interest after he chewed and swallowed.  
"Yes," Daniel said, saving a can of sugar pearls from falling, "almonds. It's hazelnuts in the original recipe, but there are some allergy sufferers here..."  
"Tastes good."  
"I think so too!" Jack exclaimed happily, protesting with his next breath: "Not so much glitter!"  
"But stars do sparkle." Maisie seemed offended, and Flynn cautiously asked:  
"So what if they only sparkle a little?"

The ensuing discussion regarding the amount of edible glitter on the cookies was followed by Dante in half amusement, half disbelief, while Daniel and Ethan took the matter decidedly seriously. In the midst of Jack's overly fanciful explanation regarding purple stars, Frank entered the kitchen and sniffed exaggeratedly.  
"Cookies!"  
"Yes, we're baking cookies!" declared Jessy with dignity, and then she gave him a slap on the wrist when he tried to take one.  
"Ouch!"  
"Hey, if Dante can have a cookie, Uncle Frank can have even more!" Maisie protested, handing him a shooting star.  
Frank thanked her with a nod, stuck his tongue out at Jessy, and then winked at Dante, who was leaning against a kitchen counter with his arms crossed and grinning.  
"What do you think of this one?", Jack wanted to know.  
"Great!" Frank replied chewing, but with a beam on his face, which Jack returned. And then Dante couldn't look as fast as Frank threw a shrieking Maisie over his shoulder for casting a disdainful glance at Jack's artwork. Frank twirled his niece around, tickling her as he did so, and her shrieking turned to stifled laughter.  
"Frank! Put her down, she just ate!" Daniel shouted, more resigned than outraged.  
Jack bounced up and down. "Me too! Me too!"

After helping Seth with some files, Dante returned to the kitchen, where Frank was now sitting as a buffer between Jack and Maisie, painting cookies with colored icing. Dante would have loved to know why Frank had returned to the house so early, but now was definitely not the time.  
"Hey, Dante, could you please start putting those cookies in the boxes over there?" Daniel asked with a calmness that revealed a certain exhaustion.  
"Careful!" exclaimed Maisie immediately.  
"Sure." Dante nodded and smiled reassuringly at Maisie. As if to check that he was doing it right, Jessy stepped up beside him, and after a moment, she helped him carefully layer the cookies into the red tin box with the white hearts.  
"I don't like Flynn." she said very, very quietly as the box was full and Dante reached for a second one that was blue with white hearts.  
"Did something happen?", he wanted to know just as quietly, wondering why she was telling him this. He couldn't remember exchanging a word with the girl before.  
"He's here." she said with a seriousness that worried him a little.  
Thoughtfully, he nodded.  
"And Ethan has to go because of him."  
"It's not Flynn's fault," Dante returned gently.  
Jessy's hands trembled, but her voice was calm. "I know. And I know Ethan ain't my Pa, but still... I don't want Flynn here. I don't like the way Ma looks at him. I don't like the way he tries to be nice to me. Ma doesn't even care that she's hurting me and Ethan. She's... the word is _selfish_ , isn't it?"  
"M-hm." Taken off guard, Dante looked at the girl.  
"She said he forgot his place," Jessy continued, a subtle bitter undertone creeping into her voice. "But a good mistress leads, teaches, punishes, loves and protects. I don't think she was trying to teach him. She simply punishes him."  
For that line of thought alone about what made a good mistress, Dante would have liked to kiss her feet.  
"Ethan is a good man, he would have accepted her correction."  
"Those are big words for a young girl."  
She raised her eyes, tears pooling in them. "I'm listening to the sisters at the temple school, Dante."  
"That's good." He was a little overwhelmed by this conversation.  
"That stupid glitter is going to be stuck here in the kitchen for weeks.", Ethan could be heard clearly in the small pause in the conversation and Jessy sobbed quietly, tears now rolling down her cheeks.  
"Only if it's not cleaned properly," Flynn objected critically and Jessy whirled around.  
"Shut up!"  
Dante winced, as did probably everyone else. And then he hastily grabbed her by the arms before she could throw anything at the boy.  
"Jessy!" Ethan shouted, jumping up so hastily that his chair fell over.  
Dante let go of the girl, who threw herself into her foster father's arms and was almost immediately carried outside by him.  
Daniel broke the uncomfortable silence with a clearing of his throat. "Kids, shall we take some of these cookies upstairs to Ma?"

Only when Daniel, Maisie and Jack had disappeared with a plate of colorful cookies did Dante move again. He took a deep breath and looked at Frank, who was outwardly completely unimpressed looking toward the door, and then at Flynn, whose lower lip was trembling.  
"I'm sorry..." he whispered to no one in particular.  
"It's not your fault." Dante said, trying an encouraging smile as Flynn looked at him.  
"I know. But for Jessy, it's my fault."  
"It's Britney's fault," Frank said dryly, continuing to decorate the cookies.  
Dante could see in Flynn's eyes how he wrestled inwardly with this apportionment of blame. If the impression he had gotten of Flynn was true, then against his better judgment, the boy would take the blame to protect his mistress. Before Dante could say anything to Flynn, he rose and hurried out. Dante sighed and rubbed his face.  
"Great... absolutely great..."  
"I thought you don't like him." Frank raised a brow and Dante sighed again.  
"I don't. But once Ethan's really gone... what's going to happen to the Britney-Jessy-Flynn constellation?"  
"Flynn is a slave, Jessy is smart, and Britney is stupid."  
Dumbfounded, Dante blinked, but Frank stubbornly devoted himself to the cookies. That Britney and her brother didn't have the best of sibling relationships, Dante already knew, but he had a hard time placing this supercool statement.  
"Do you have any siblings?" Frank then asked curiously, and Dante shrugged.  
"I don't know."  
Irritated, Frank lowered the cookie. "How could you not know?"  
"I was raised in a children's home by nuns. All I know about my mother is that she's a Sapphire- and that the Sapphires are part of the top tier of the upper class."  
"You... she gave you away?" Frank sounded so incredulous that Dante felt very uncomfortable again.  
"Maybe she had to. Maybe... I don't know, Frank. I don't even know her name." As a child, he had thought about why he lived in that home and not with his mother, but eventually he had given up on it. If she hadn't wanted him, it was probably better that she gave him away rather than treat him badly. Over the years, in fact, he hadn't cared- and by now Denser's Port was also too far away to ever hear his last name used in reference to other people again.  
Frank, who had been staring intently at his cookie in between, now raised his eyes again. "Can we be your family?" he asked quietly, almost a little shyly.  
"I bear your name, so I'm one of you," Dante returned cautiously, knowing immediately that Frank had wanted to hear something else. "But... ask me again in a few weeks," he added, and a small smile crept onto Frank's face.

~

"Hey guys, I got-" Dante's words were lost in jubilant roars. The workers sat transfixed in front of the TV, watching what Dante identified after a moment as a ice hockey match. "Guys?"  
"What's up?" It was Dennis who answered, even rising after a quick glance.  
"The kids baked cookies and generously determined you guys were entitled to some."  
Dennis grinned. "Thank you for that noble donation. This will be the after-match snack."  
Irritated, Dante looked at him and passed the colorful cookie jar.  
"Now none of those idiots would know what they're stuffing in," Dennis explained, rolling his eyes. "It's the first match of the season and Westshire is playing."  
"Doesn't ice hockey interest you?" Dante asked, glancing again at the television.  
"I got a puck in the face when I was a kid, and that was enough."  
Dante grinned. "Didn't hurt you, apparently."  
Dennis grinned back. "And it would do you good."  
"What would do him good?" Tom wanted to know, and Dante glanced over his shoulder. Tom came sauntering in and put an arm around Dante's shoulders in an accentuated casual gesture.  
"A puck in the face." Dennis replied, his grin shrinking.  
Tom snorted in amusement. "That would do some people good."  
"My point exactly." Dennis gave Dante a wink and retreated along with the cookie jar. He wasn't much younger than Blaise, but even so, he seemed unreservedly submissive to the authority Tom exuded. Like actually everyone here, Dante had noted, but after Mistress Alice's statement it all made more sense now; presumably Tom's family had had more than one slave before whatever had happened to make Tom one himself.  
"I heard there was a little drama upstairs," Tom then said casually, his eyes fixed on the TV, pulling Dante close to him. Dante resisted, but he couldn't help that it definitely wasn't a purely friendship gesture anymore, yet he didn't return the gesture- not when there were so many people around.  
"Yeah" he replied just as casually, trying to make sense of the bustle on the screen. Denser's Port was south-southeast of here, and the few flakes that fell there in winter merely managed to create a coating layer in the heated metropolis every few years; there was no thought of winter sports in the region, and he didn't know anyone who was interested. "Jessy's not taking it too well," he said.  
"She's taking after Jordan too much," Tom muttered, wincing as a Westshire player was fouled badly.  
"Must have been an ugly story..." Dante remarked, catching Tom's nod out of the corner of his eye.  
"Well, basically the only ugly thing about it is Britney, but don't tell anyone. She didn't want Ethan and devoted herself to her grandmother's personal slave out of spite. And Mistress Charlotte didn't think it was funny at all. When it was clear after Jessy was born that Jordan was the father, she sold him immediately."  
"And Britney didn't care?"  
"Don't really know. Wasn't a pleasant time, anyway, and only settled down after the old lady caught pneumonia and died. But Britney and Ethan never had more than a nice front, for Ethan can claim what he wants." Tom paused for a moment. "But I'm sorry for the girl."  
"So am I..." murmured Dante in agreement, involuntarily pulling his shoulders up, prompting Tom to stroke his back reassuringly.  
As the others collectively groaned at Westshire conceding a goal, Dante sighed. "Alright, I'm going to go help clean up the battlefield up there."  
"Okay..." Tom nodded and Dante gave him a teasing smile, which he returned.  
"What's the score?" Blaise's voice suddenly boomed, and before Dante knew it, he got a cheerful smack on the shoulder.  
"Tie!" Sawyer shouted critically.  
"Damn!" Blaise seemed to be taking the matter seriously, and Dante stifled a grin as he ruffled Tom's hair the way he usually did Frank's.

~

Since Mistress Alice had ordered Dante to sleep at Frank's while she was gone, he put his alarm clock in his backpack and took it with him as he walked over to Frank's room. Under his other arm he carried his sleeping clothes and fresh clothes for tomorrow. Frank, who was covering extra bedding, first smiled at Dante, then frowned.  
"What have you got there?"  
Involuntarily, Dante gripped the backpack tighter. "My possessions." The fact that slaves were allowed to own things was always controversial, and there were enough women who didn't like it and tried to forbid it to their own slaves. It was silly to take the backpack with him, but since he owned this backpack, it was always next to him when he slept. Without it felt strange.  
Apparently, Frank had read something on Dante's face, because he merely nodded. "I didn't mean to pry."  
Dante nodded back and then they got ready for bed in silence.

But as Dante placed his alarm clock on the nightstand, Frank asked:  
"Has anyone ever stolen from you?"  
"No, why?"  
"Because you looked weird."  
"Stealing from one another is frowned upon and can be punished quite severely, but there are enough women who won't begrudge a slave anything."  
"And yet you own things."  
"Of course, because they're not allowed to take anything from you. But I've heard some nasty stories about destroying and the like."  
"What's your most precious possession?"  
Dante hesitated at the question. Most of the things he owned were worthless materially, but they were memories and attentions. "I don't know..." he finally said slowly. "Maybe this." He pulled out a hardcover book and hesitantly handed it to Frank, who accepted it almost reverently.  
"The Sons of the Great Mother..." he read the title aloud and frowned. "What kind of book is this?"  
"You might say a religious storybook."  
Frank looked confused and Dante had to smile. He slipped under the covers and then leaned the book against the pillows before flipping through it.  
"Everyone knows the most important daughters of the Great Mother, after all the months are named after them, but the divine sons also play a role."  
Frank still looked skeptical, but made himself comfortable. "Oh." he said in surprise when Dante stopped flipping the pages. On the left page was a picture of a warrior, with sword and shield and silver armor. His hair gleamed white-blond and a determined line was around his mouth.  
"Dante, the Warrior of Light..." Frank read the title of the story which began on the right page. "You're named after a son of the Great Mother?"  
"Looks like it." Dante grinned. "And he was even one of the good guys. See the gem on his shield? With that, he could banish the divine powers of his half-brothers for a few years, making them harmless. Don't look like that, it was necessary. Ares, after all, was cast out of heaven and, when he fell, stole lightning bolts with which he threatened and killed people. And Deimos, Dante's only real brother, left heaven of his own accord and corrupted those around him with his hatred and anger."  
"And Dante fought against them?"  
"M-hm. Or he protected his other brothers and sisters. Raphael the healer, for example, or Skyler the priest, or Persia." Dante liked the stories, though he'd had a hard time coming to terms with the origin of his name at first.  
Curious, Frank flipped through the book, looking at the various illustrations. "Who gave you this book?"  
"A mistress, of course. For coming of age. She had very strange tastes in punishments and rewards. But she was actually a good mistress." Nearly four years Dante had lived with this woman, who had made him clean her floors for every mistake he made during driving lessons, but she had always been generous with her slaves- until she had died unexpectedly.  
Frank gave an approving hum, then paused. "Andros the seducer... looks more like a show-off," he said.  
"But I hear he was pretty successful." A grin crept onto Dante's face. "By the way, the enhancement of ugly is: so ugly that even Andros wouldn't want."  
Frank chuckled and then tapped the almost completely naked depiction of the divine son. "Why do men have nipples, anyway, if there's nothing behind them for babies to drink from?"  
A little surprised by the change of subject, Dante raised his eyebrows. "If you want a medically accurate answer, you should ask Valentine."  
"What kind of answer do _you_ have?"  
"A theological one."  
Expectantly, Frank looked at him.  
"Well... The Great Mother created men in the image of women and took the excess body mass from above and pushed it down. The sap of life, they say. Milk is white and so is ejaculate. She just forgot to remove the nipples." Dante personally couldn't imagine the Great Mother forgetting anything, but that was just the story he knew about it.  
Frank, on the other hand, grinned wryly. "Imagine if she had moved the nipples down with them. Then we'd look like a cow with her udder." He laughed goofily, and Dante had to grin more because of that than because of the idea itself- because it was kind of disturbing. He closed the book and gently slid it back into his backpack before getting comfortable.  
"Good night, Frank."  
"Good night..." Frank was still chuckling as he turned out the light.

Mentally, Dante was still thinking about what Mistress Alice had said about Tom when Frank suddenly asked quietly:  
"Dante... can I ask you something?"  
"Sure." Dante turned to Frank, though of course he couldn't see a thing in the darkness either way.  
"Remember the last time you slept here? You said something in the morning... well... you said to ask Pa... about... what it means to jerk off..."  
"Yeah..." said Dante slowly, anticipating what was coming next.  
"Pa said I didn't need to know," Frank continued, just as Dante had feared. "But that sounds wrong."  
"Hmm."  
"Will you explain?"  
"I can try..." Dante muttered, chewing on his lip for a moment. Why did Blaise refuse to answer his son that question? "Well... basically, it means sex with your own hand." Short and direct.  
"But... for sex, you need a woman," Frank objected uncertainly.  
Great, really, now this wonderfully awkward topic was completely stuck on Dante. He suppressed a sigh. "Sex is more than just the union of a man and a woman. Flynn would tell you now that men must experience pleasure only through their mistress, but for one thing, not all men have a mistress, and for another, the Great Mother would have created us differently if she'd really wanted it that way."  
"Hmm.", made Frank. "So what is sex then?"  
"Sex is..." Dante paused. Was there even a proper definition for it? "I guess I can't tell you that exactly. But touching yourself for the purpose of orgasm... that's definitely a sexual act." _Now please don't ask what an orgasm is,_ Dante begged silently, and sure enough, Frank skipped over that possible foreign word.  
"And you can do that in the morning when...?"  
"Yes."  
"Hmm. I can't imagine my sisters and their mates just doing that in the morning." Frank sounded like he was wrinkling his nose, and Dante had to grin involuntarily.  
"No, why would they?"  
"Well, because it only happens in the morning."  
"You can induce this state quite deliberately..." Suddenly Dante felt like he was on thin ice, but with what reason would he refuse to answer Frank? Blaise obviously wouldn't give him any explanations, and why should he ask Tom when Dante was just here? But why did Frank ask Dante at all? What had earned him enough trust for this sensitive subject? "With a touch... or with thoughts alone..." he added explanatorily and Frank made a surprised sound.  
"With _thoughts_? That's... weird."  
Now it was Dante who gave a noncommittal _'hmm'_ and then hoped that Frank wouldn't immediately get carried away with any experiments.  
But after a while of dozy silence, Frank murmured: "Thanks."  
"You're welcome," Dante murmured back, curling up.  
"You know... you're different," Frank then added.  
"Different how?", Dante wanted to know, squinting into the darkness.  
"You're sincere.", Frank replied, sounding as sincere as he could himself. "You... With you, I don't feel like you're trying to protect me by keeping something from me."  
That stunned Dante again. "I don't think the tactic of concealment belongs in a family."  
"No... I love Tom, like a brother, but he's like that too." Now Frank sounded almost sad. "Anthony always told me everything, he never hid anything from me or lied. Everyone else seems to have forgotten him, but not me." A tiny pause. "You remind me of him."  
"Oh..." That was all Dante could think of to say. He would have loved to comfort Frank, but he had no idea how to go about it. "Maybe..." he finally began, swallowing hard, "maybe they didn't forget him, but just packed the memories away well so it wouldn't hurt so much."  
"Maybe..." Frank whispered, not really convinced.  
"No one can replace your brother, Frank, so... please be careful when you say I remind you of him. I can't replace him, and I don't want to do so." Slowly, Dante reached out and touched Frank somewhere on the arm.  
Frank sniffed quietly and grabbed Dante's hand. "But we can be friends, right?"  
"We can, right." Despite the darkness, Dante nodded to his words. His heart was heavy and he stroked Frank's big rough hand with his thumb until he fell asleep, then whispered: "The Great Mother made us all brothers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to inform you, but since I'm moving next week, I won't be able to update soon.


	14. Things to change us

There was a somewhat strange mood. Dante could see it working in Frank, and he himself... felt embarrassedly honored that he held Frank's trust. He hoped he was proving himself worthy of it. Added to this, of course, was the awkwardness of the subject itself.  
In comfortable silence they prepared their omelet and had almost finished it when Blaise came into the kitchen.  
"Good morning, Blaise." Dante nodded to him in greeting. Again the questions came up as to why Blaise hadn't spoken to Frank. Why he wouldn't answer him.  
"Hey, Pa..."  
"Hey, boys..." Blaise smiled tiredly and tousled Frank's curls, which could slowly make use of a haircut. A little irritated, Dante watched Frank tense strangely as Blaise's hand slid from Frank's hair to the back of his neck and stayed there. "Got a little lost yesterday, but Lucia invited you to her birthday party."  
"I don't want to." Frank made a face and Blaise sighed.  
"That's not a good enough reason not to go."  
"I don't _like_ her, Pa."  
"Nobody said you had to like her, kiddo, but it would be downright rude not to go."  
"She's pushy and loud and doesn't like slaves and has-"  
"Frank. It's rude.", Blaise drowned out his son and he contorted his face a little more.  
"I don't think you're expected to marry her," Dante interjected with an encouraging smile and Frank growled into his coffee cup before standing up and leaving without another word.  
Blaise sighed again. "You know, I can actually understand him. Lucia is not a very likeable girl."  
Dante preferred not to agree verbally- he'd only met her once, but that was already enough for him- but said carefully: "She seems to like him."  
"There's no mistaking that. Forgive me for saying so, but it does seem a little perverse. After all..." Blaise pointed to his head and Dante raised a brow.  
"I doubt she'd be interested in the organ between his ears."  
Now Blaise grinned wryly and Dante couldn't help but at least return it with a smile. "I doubt that too, but I still don't like it. He just doesn't get what she would want from him." That was a point Dante also doubted after last night's conversation, but he kept that to himself. Instead, he noted:  
"Frank told me he misses Anthony a lot."  
The mere mention of the name was enough to make Blaise look years older. "He's not alone in that..." He ran his hand through his graying curls and then dropped into Frank's chair. "Frank has always been terribly shy- except in the company of the twins. He and Alice are still very close, but sometimes there's something downright desperate about it."  
"Oh..."  
Absentmindedly, Blaise twirled the dirty fork. "Alice didn't speak a word while Frank was in a coma, and that's when she started writing. Sometimes we literally had to force her to eat, you know..."  
Dante nodded, though Blaise probably didn't even see it.  
"Well... love accomplishes a lot."  
"Love?" Love like Valentine?  
"Victor. Victor Stone." With a tired gesture, Blaise rubbed his face. "The Stones are a bit odd, but he got her out of the swamp of her own making. And then she was smart enough to leave him."  
Dante had heard almost nothing from the Stones until now.  
"Ma even refrained from buying her a slave."  
"Then why did you buy me for her?" After everything he had learned so far about the somewhat different rules around here, that was an interesting question- because other than inability to manage a slave, it would be hard to justify here not giving a girl a personal slave for coming of age.  
"Because she has to learn." Blaise said, looking up, a strange smile briefly playing around his lips. "Once she marries Val and moves to the Washington farm, Wilma will prepare her for her role as future matriarch. There's no way she's going to learn how to handle slaves properly at the same time."  
"She didn't want me," Dante remarked as he tried to imagine Mistress Alice as a matriarch. It resulted in a feeling like a lunatic grin because it just felt unimaginable and wrong as well.  
"Maybe so. But as long as she wants Val, she'll have to live with it. He's the heir to the farm, after all."  
Dante nodded thoughtfully. After a moment of silence, Blaise stood up and put the two plates in the sink while Dante hurriedly rose and took Frank's coffee cup from the table.  
"Frank's a good boy..." Blaise murmured to the empty room, giving Dante both a tired smile and a pat on the back. Cup in hand, Dante watched him go until Daniel snapped him out of his thoughts.  
Instead of making Anthony's death a taboo subject, the family should probably seek grief therapy.

~

"Hey, Seth, lunch is almost ready..."  
Seth lifted his eyes from the messy desk, which looked like it had been raining papers, and nodded to Dante. "All right." Then he rubbed his eyes.  
"You've been pretty busy lately..." remarked Dante gently and Seth shrugged.  
"I'm just performing the tasks Mistress Carolyn assigns me." He hesitated briefly before continuing. "She takes care of Ethan. Well... his sales and everything that goes with it. Unlike Miss Britney, she cares about him, she knows what he's accomplished."  
Dante nodded slowly, though he couldn't quite imagine how Miss Carolyn cared about the slaves.  
"TJ said you didn't look well earlier," Seth then said abruptly and Dante raised a brow.  
"Me?"  
"Yes, you."  
"No, I'm fine."  
"You know you can talk to me."  
"Yeah..." Dante nodded, but Seth looked at him unblinkingly with that knowing look. "I was just thinking... about Anthony and Tom."  
"Interesting combination."  
Dante made a face, but before he could say or explain anything, Seth added:  
"I'll answer one question for you."  
"Okay..." The Anthony thing would have really interested Dante, but Tom was clearly more present as a problem. "Mistress Alice told me Tom used to be a free man. What's the story behind it? How did he end up here?"  
Seth raised a brow and eyed Dante for a moment before a fine smile settled on his lips. "Why don't you ask him yourself? After all, you guys have been getting along pretty well lately."  
"Do you really think, proud as he is, he'd talk about it?"  
Seth laughed quietly. "No, probably not." Immediately he turned back to serious. "But basically, you guys match up pretty well. He was allowed to keep his last name. Gold and Sapphire. No, wait, _Golden_. Thomas Golden. Right. And just like you, he's a personal slave who's out of line."  
Irritated, Dante looked at him. "Tom's a _personal slave_?"  
Seth nodded thoughtfully, looking past Dante. "In the official papers, yes. A debt slave. His mother and Mistress Carolyn negotiated a special deal back then, against Mistress Charlotte's wishes. She didn't want him in the house; Tom refused to serve in the bedroom- after three days he moved down to the workers."  
Dante could tell by looking at Seth that for him the question had been answered, and with a grateful smile he nodded. This particular deal would have really interested him, but even if Seth knew more about it, he was unlikely to say anything more. "Thanks."  
Seth nodded back. "Come on, let's see after lunch."  
The day wasn't even half over and Dante had already heard so many things to think about that he certainly wouldn't be able to fall asleep tonight. But maybe a good meal already would help calm his mental chaos.

~

Dante and Seth missed an argument between Ethan and Flynn in the kitchen by no more than two minutes, but as a result the mood was tense, even after Flynn excused himself from the meal and disappeared. Miss Britney didn't seem to care much where her new toy had gone to, and after lunch, as they were putting the dishes away in the kitchen, Dante quietly asked, addressing Daniel:  
"Say, you know Miss Britney best. What's the mood really like?"  
Daniel grimaced unhappily. "Flynn wants to please. And with a vehemence which almost drives it into the ridiculous. I don't think this will last long. He's too young and inexperienced."  
Dante snorted. "When I talked to him, there was almost something religiously fanatical about him."  
"Well then, I'm curious to see where this goes." Skeptically, Daniel frowned. "Being worshipped like a goddess is very much to Miss Britney's taste, in my opinion."  
"Well, let's hope she doesn't build herself a harem, then," Dante muttered, half in jest, half in earnest, and watched with relief as Daniel shook his head.  
"As long as Miss Carolyn rules here, I don't think so." What might come after that was an entirely different kettle of fish.

Just when the kitchen was again clean, Ethan entered. Dante thought he looked old, but maybe it was just an unhealthy mix of defeat and fatigue.  
"You look really crappy," Daniel spoke it sympathetically, and to Dante's surprise, a smile flitted across Ethan's face.  
"I'm going to Townsend tomorrow."  
"Why is that?" Mikey asked puzzled.  
"I'm going to serve at the community center until there's a buyer. I asked for it."  
"Why is that?" TJ repeated Mikey's question, no less puzzled.  
Ethan made a helpless gesture. "Because the situation here is unbearable." They could probably all relate to that, and Dante nodded slowly.  
Silence reigned for a moment, Ethan's shoulders slumped, and Dante feared he would burst into tears, but then Miss Britney barged in.  
"Have either of you seen Jessy?"  
The answer consisted of multiple shakes of the head, only Daniel said quietly: "No, Miss."  
"Find her!" she barked into the room and was gone in an instant.  
Ethan sighed lightly. "Doesn't she deserve a little rest?" he whispered more to himself.  
"Let Dante go." Daniel said quietly, stepping up to Ethan and putting a hand on his shoulder.  
"Why _me_? And go where?" Dante asked, caught off guard, but got no answer for a long moment, until Ethan finally said with a sigh:  
"Back at the edge of the woods, there's a shrine. That's where she went after lunch."  
"Okay, but why _me_?" Dante had not heard of this shrine until now.  
"Because you're relatively neutral," Daniel explained matter-of-factly, squeezing Ethan's shoulder. "If Jessy wants to talk, it's probably most likely with you."  
Skeptically, Dante raised a brow, but then nodded. "Okay..."

~

If Dante had been on the lookout for it, he probably would have noticed the shrine earlier. A semicircle of waist-high yew bushes enclosed from behind the life-size stone statue of the Great Mother, who had her hands outstretched in a gracious, inviting gesture. An orange-brown cloak had been draped around her shoulders and a conical roof supported by twelve columns loomed overhead. Under the roof, but at a respectful distance from the statue, was a rather weathered wooden bench- and on it sat Jessy. The girl was barely visible under her cap and scarf, and Dante stepped up beside the bench, where he bowed deeply toward the statue, giving Jessy a chance to react to him.  
"Sit down." she said, sniffling. A quick glance told him her nose was dripping, but he had no tissues.  
He sat down next to her on the bench and looked at the shrine, which was obviously well cared for.  
"Why did you come?" she finally wanted to know as he put his hands in the pockets of his thick jacket.  
"Your Ma's looking for you," he answered honestly.  
"And _you_ , of all people, knew where I was?"  
"Ethan told me and Daniel sent me."  
A strange, low laugh escaped her and he gave her a quick glance, but she looked stubbornly straight ahead.  
"Do you come here often?"  
She nodded silently.  
"It's a nice place." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her glance.  
"Yes. Quiet. Peaceful."  
Slowly, he turned his head and returned her gaze, then put on a slight smile.  
"Dante, the Warrior of Light... Do you believe in it?"  
"In what, exactly?"  
"In your name."  
"It's just a name. I mean, it's kind of a bad joke to name a slave after a half god."  
"You think so? _I_ think we need a warrior of light here." Now she sounded a little spaced out... The girl sighed. "The priestesses at the temple school say, sometimes the Great Mother deliberately sends a very specific man to a woman. To keep the balance. I think Aunt Alice needs you. And I think Flynn is definitely not Ma's balance."  
"No, probably not. But obviously Ethan isn't either, if she can just push him aside without feeling anything."  
Jessy nodded slowly and Dante saw it with relief; he'd been afraid the girl would see her foster father in a glorified light. "Do you think Ma is a bad mistress?"  
"There are definitely better ones," he answered honestly, but in a gentle tone. "But there are also significantly worse ones."  
Again she nodded thoughtfully, then fell silent again.  
"What do you mean by _your aunt would need me_?" he then asked curiously, shuddering as Jessy looked back at him- sad, knowing, lost.  
"That accident back then... it broke so much. Uncle Frank. Aunt Alice's brother. Grandpa is sad a lot because of it and Aunt Alice is alone a lot. I don't think even Val can make her happy, though she can laugh with him."  
"And you want me to fix it?" Skeptically, he raised a brow and saw her nod seriously.  
"You're proud and strong. Ma and Grandma always say pride in men is a bad thing, but it isn't."  
"How would you know?" After all, pride and arrogance were often very close, and Dante wasn't sure she could differentiate that accurately yet, even though she seemed much older than her years.  
"Grandpa is proud, but he's not a bad man because he knows how to act toward a woman. He is free, but he has earned it. He has served and is still serving. And he makes Grandma happy and protects us." Only the last sentence sounded like a child.  
"Are you happy?" he asked on impulse and she shook her head.  
"No."  
Probably not much would change there anytime soon, and as Dante looked back up at the statue of the Great Mother, a thought crossed his mind. The children out here in the country were home schooled and the girls went to boarding school in the next town at 10 or 12, depending on their level of knowledge and local conditions. But besides the boarding school there was another alternative: the temple school. Girls attended it for religion classes once or twice a week, but who was to say that a girl like Jessy could not become a priestess?  
He voiced the thought, but Jessy shook her head.  
"I thought about it. But Ma wouldn't let me go."  
"What makes you think that? I mean, how can anyone deny the Great Mother new priestesses?" He stifled the additional comment that yes, there was Maisie, who could inherit the farm sometime many years from now, not to mention future girls.  
"Maybe you're right..." she murmured, looking up uncertainly. There was a suitably childlike expression on her face now and Dante smiled encouragingly at her.  
"Why don't you just ask her? And if she says _no_ , you can always ask your matriarch."  
Jessy nodded and pulled up a corner of her mouth. "Thanks, Dante."  
"You're welcome. But you really should go back now." _Before your Ma takes her anger out on someone available in your place_ , he added in thought, and again she nodded before rising, bowing to the statue, and running off.

~

Later at dinner, Jessy seemed calm and composed, giving Dante a satisfied smile, and as if that wasn't enough, she later slipped into the kitchen and hugged Dante so enthusiastically that he almost dropped a plate.  
"Yikes!"  
"Thank you!" she whispered into his shirt and disappeared as quickly as she had come. A baffled but satisfied smile crept onto Dante's face as he watched her go. Miss Britney's response had obviously been positive.  
"What was that all about?" Mikey asked irritated.  
"I told you," Daniel said with an audible smile.  
"How did you do that?" Ethan wanted to know and Dante shrugged, his smile slipping.  
"We talked." The others looked at him curiously, but he was quite of the opinion that it was none of their business. However, Ethan's whole attitude made him feel sorry for him. "I guess on her tenth birthday she'll be standing outside the temple school with her bags packed."  
"I didn't see that coming now," TJ muttered, dumbfounded, and Ethan's eyes grew wide before he turned away- Dante saw some relief on his face anyway.  
Seth, who had wanted to deal with some inventory lists, laughed quietly. "Someone's made a new friend," he said.  
"We could all use a friend or two." Dante gave him a wry grin and got back a gentle smile along with a nod.  
"So, which of our many friends here is going to take care of the laundry? Maisie's already whining about missing her favorite skirt," Daniel interjected, and Mikey returned:  
"Why not you directly? It's your little daughter, after all."  
"Oh, if you'll put Jack in the bathtub in return, I'd love to."  
"Uh, no..."  
"I'll do it." Dante offered, though he really didn't have much desire for icy feet and clammy cold fingers, but someone had to do it, and besides, if Seth was forced to make a decision for them, he'd send him downstairs anyway.

When Dante was halfway done, Tom suddenly asked behind him:  
"Are they actually sending you downstairs on _purpose_ at this hour?"  
"How do they say? Only women have secrets, and even they have to share them with the Great Mother. Seth would know everything even without a gossiping household," Dante replied, addressing one of Jack's t-shirts before casting a quick glance over his shoulder.  
Tom leaned in the doorway and smiled tiredly.  
"You look pretty done."  
"Some days are worse than others. Frank's bad mood didn't help matters either."  
Dante sighed and turned back to the wet laundry. "He got an invitation to Lucia Parker's birthday party this morning."  
"Well, that explains a lot." Tom sighed as well, and a thought occurred to Dante.  
"Tell me, did Frank ever ask you any questions?"  
"What kind of questions?" Tom asked back, irritated.  
"Well... typical teenage questions."  
" _Oh_. No, he hasn't. Whereas... he once asked why he looks different down below than the rest of us. He obviously didn't like the answer, but he didn't ask any further." Usually slave-born boys were circumcised shortly after birth, but that apparently went differently here as well.  
"Why is that, actually? I mean, as a second-born boy, he should have-"  
"It's a ritual," Tom interrupted him with an audible eyeroll. "The circumcision, the first cage, the first slave collar, the handing over to the mistress for education."  
Dante grimaced- he had heard that it was a terrible pain, but he refrained from commenting on it, because Tom's circumcision was for him probably part of his humiliation of becoming a slave.  
"Except for Frank, all the men here in the household are circumcised," Tom added and Dante nodded as he finally got the last piece of clothing on the line. "But I wonder what he sees in you, asking you of all people these questions. I mean, he _did_ ask, didn't he?"  
Dante wondered the same thing, just as he wondered why Jessy confided in him- he didn't let the answer that he should resemble his namesake in any way stand. "He did, but who knows why..."  
"Maybe he's growing up after all. Very, _very_ slowly..."  
Dante turned to Tom and shrugged before putting the empty laundry basket in its place. "Since you know him better than I do-"  
Somewhere in the background there was a loud bang and glass shattered. Mikey cursed and then called out miserably: "Dante? Can you help me?"  
"What happened?" Dante shouted back, pushing with an apologetic look past Tom, who couldn't resist pressing a wet kiss to his cheek. As if he needed to mark his territory.


	15. A first and a last Kiss

The warm water stung on the burned areas, so much that Dante almost bit his lower lip bloody; the emergency shower, right after Mikey had accidentally dumped the acrid cleanser down his neck, had brought tears to his eyes. He turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel, then stepped out of the shower, wincing when Frank opened the door briskly. Cold air swirled around his feet.   
"Oh", Frank made in surprise, but then stepped inside and closed the door. "Does it hurt a lot? It doesn't look that bad, but Seth yelled terribly at Mikey."   
It had been an unfortunate mishap, nothing more, so Dante put on a wry smile. "I'll be fine, no big deal." He began to dry off slowly and Frank asked quietly:   
"Do you want me to help you put cream on it?"   
"No, there shouldn't be any on there for now."   
"Okay..." After a moment's hesitation, Frank reached for the toothbrush.   
As soft as the towel was, it still hurt on the maltreated skin, and Dante seriously considered for a moment forgoing his pajama top, but the bedding would do its part anyway. The back of his neck, part of his right shoulder, and the back where the cleaning product had run down tingled uncomfortably and felt hot as he carefully brushed his fingertips over it. With a poorly suppressed sigh, he reached for his pajama pants and was pulling them up when he paused- over the mirror he saw Frank watching him; toothpaste foam dripped from his chin. "What is it?"   
A blush shot up Frank's face, but he half-turned to Dante before saying: "You're pretty."   
Dumbfounded, Dante blinked at him. "That's... I mean, thank you, but... isn't that more of a word for women?" And noticing his privates still hanging out of his pants, he quickly tucked them away.   
Frank shrugged. "I thought it was appropriate."   
"Okay... um... thanks..." Embarrassed silence fell and Dante searched for a topic of conversation, for he didn't want to go to sleep in such a tense mood.   
"Is Lucia really that bad?" he finally wanted to know after getting comfortable in bed, and Frank made a face.   
"She's like Britney. But different."   
Dante raised a brow, and Frank made a strange grimace.   
"In summer, she tried to kiss me."   
A low chuckle escaped Dante, because Frank's face so full of indignation was simply heavenly. "And that would have been so bad?"   
"Yes."   
"Because you don't like Lucia, or because kissing is... _gross_?" He emphasized the word a little and Frank started to reply, but then paused.   
"What's so funny about it?"   
Dante swallowed his grin with difficulty. "Kissing can be a very nice thing. And I've been told it can lead to even more nice things."   
He could watch the realization take hold of Frank, but then he shook his head. "But not with _Lucia_!"   
"Your call." Dante shrugged. Probably the step from theoretical interest in such things to practicality was still too big for Frank, but it was a start.   
"Do you like kissing?" Frank then asked curiously and Dante nodded cautiously. The whole thing was a tightrope walk, it went through his mind, and a slightly uneasy feeling rose in him as Frank looked at him thoughtfully. _'You're pretty.'_   
"May I..." -Frank's whispered shy words snapped Dante out of his thoughts on how to get around the issue- "may I try it?"   
Dante blinked at him, a little lost.   
"May I... kiss you?"   
Now Dante was in a right mess. What was he supposed to say? What did he have to say? _No_ \- because his mistress didn't know? _Yes_ \- because he was only a slave and Frank was a free man? He had the dull feeling any decision would turn out to be wrong in retrospect. In addition, he had a guilty conscience, because on the one hand he didn't want to betray Frank's trust, but on the other hand he actually didn't feel much like kissing him. The innocent anticipation sparkling in Frank's eyes wrested a decision from Dante.   
"Okay..." He propped himself up on one elbow and decided that, yes, Mistress Alice didn't really need to know about this; after all, she took his dalliance with Tom with a shrug.   
Frank, meanwhile, slowly leaned forward and then his lips met Dante's- an innocent, a chaste kiss. Disillusionment spread across Frank's face. "That was wrong, wasn't it?"   
Astonished, Dante raised a brow. "What makes you think that?"   
"It felt... like nothing."   
Dante indicated a shrug. "Not every kiss is the kiss of your life."   
"How was your first kiss?"   
"Not overly pleasant. And not wanted."   
That seemed to sober Frank even further, and Dante sighed.   
"Look, Frank, certain experiences shouldn't be-"   
"Will you show me how to do it right? Please?"   
Dante shut his mouth and suppressed another sigh; he was finding it outright difficult to say no. Slowly, he lifted his hand to Frank's scratchy cheek- he hadn't shaved in the last few days- and stroked his lower lip with his thumb before leaning forward.   
Frank returned the kiss, in fact seemed to know instinctively how to do it when Dante moved his lips minimally. It was a shy kiss and intense in a strange way which couldn't compare one bit to one of Tom's kisses. And most of all- there seemed to be no end to it. It wasn't until the tip of Dante's tongue brushed against Frank's upper lip that he pulled back and blinked at Dante, completely overwhelmed.   
Dante himself felt nothing, but he smiled. "Better?"   
"Yeah..." Frank murmured, touching his lips as if he couldn't believe it. And then he mirrored Dante's gesture, caressing Dante's lips, his cheek, and finally pulling him in as much as he leaned in himself.   
The second kiss was no longer shy, but exploratory, yet eerily careful, as if Dante were fragile. It was a very nice kiss and he noticed, embarrassed, the blood rushing to his midsection- he gently broke the kiss and cleared his throat meaningfully.   
A confused second later, Frank blushed hard and moved away a bit. "I... I understand what you meant earlier." The hand that had been hot against Dante's cheek a moment ago disappeared under the covers. "I... um..." he cleared his throat, "thank you."   
Nodding, Dante licked his lips and stifled even a _'good night'_ as Frank turned off the light. And somehow he doubted Frank's mind had changed regarding kissing Lucia.

~

The morning began as if Dante had simply imagined what had happened, but actually he was quite glad of it; considered in the light of day, it made him kind of uncomfortable.  
"What do they say about fog in the big city?" Frank suddenly asked into the comfortable silence, and Dante lifted his eyes from the last few bites on his plate.   
"It's just fog. Or perhaps spooky things. Why?"   
"It's foggy outside. And I was dreaming about fog."   
"Prophetic dreams?" Dante teased and Frank grinned.   
"Now that would be something..."   
"Morning, boys." Blaise appeared in the doorway and nodded at them. "Dante, can you inform Dennis I won't be back until this afternoon? I'm taking Ma and Ethan to Townsend, but have a few things to do there."   
"Yeah, sure." Dante nodded and almost immediately Blaise was gone.   
Frank sighed, his good mood blown away. "Kind of fitting... Ethan disappearing into the fog."   
"Stop clowning..."   
Frank raised his hands apologetically. "Go ahead, let Dennis know before he disappears outside. I'll manage to put the plates away."   
Dante nodded and left the kitchen. Fog was nothing but fog to him, but Frank's words left a strange aftertaste; here in the country, the world was a little different.

Down in the basement, there was already a certain amount of noise and the three work slaves he encountered in the hallway nodded at him in greeting.   
"Is Dennis around?" he wanted to know and the same promptly poked his head through the kitchen door.   
"Here, what's up?" He was still chewing.   
"Blaise sent word that he won't be back until afternoon."   
Dennis nodded. "Okay. If you can still catch him upstairs, tell him Adam needs a doctor urgently."   
"How urgent?" Dante cautiously wanted to know and Dennis glanced over his shoulder.   
"I don't want to spoil anyone's appetite. But it's pretty damn urgent."   
"O-okay..." Dante nodded, wondering why, even in this case, no one dared to leave the basement for the ground floor, but he said nothing, instead he turned around.   
"Good morning." Tom greeted at the same moment and he put on a smile.   
"Morning."   
"Not a good morning?"   
"Frank's talk about the fog has spoiled my mood a bit." Dante preferred to leave everything else out of it and shrugged.   
Tom smiled broadly and pulled Dante close before kissing him. How was it that even such a simple kiss in the early morning seemed demanding? Or was it just pure imagination? "At least it's a better morning now, hmm?" As if Tom's kisses were all Dante needed to be happy. He withheld an eye roll and patted Tom's chest instead.   
"Better get to work, you lazy ass."   
Tom grinned. "Aye, aye, sir!" He stalked off and Dante swallowed a sigh. Somehow there seemed to be no moderate middle ground with Tom.

~

The day passed uneventfully, except for Mikey's contrite expression, because he was infinitely sorry that he had hurt Dante with his mishap.   
Or at least it was that way until Adam was picked up by an ambulance just before dinner. Miss Carolyn announced that he needed to be thoroughly examined, but was otherwise silent on the subject. Furthermore, Dante tried to ignore the fact that Ethan's place at the table remained empty, which he succeeded in doing frighteningly well, so that a guilty conscience soon arose, especially since Daniel in particular was rather depressed. The mood shifted to unpleasant and after the table was cleared, Dante went to the basement to inquire about Adam's condition.

"Hasn't been feeling well for days," Dennis said, seeming at first irritated, then touched, by Dante's concerned interest. "I mean, Adam would only have a few years left before he was released to the retirement house, so old age ailments are normal, but... well." Dennis twitched his eyebrows, then cut things short by saying bluntly: "Colon cancer, I guess, and not just since yesterday. That much blood doesn't come from a snap of the fingers."   
Dante shuddered. "He's going to die, isn't he?"   
"We all die sooner or later, kid."   
"Yeah, but-"   
"I know what you mean." Dennis pursed his lips into what was probably meant to be a smile, but was more like a snarl. "Adam will die for sure, yes, but with a little gratitude from Mistress Carolyn, he will take his last breath here at the farm. Drugged up, but peaceful and at home."   
Dante shuddered again. He had never had any acquaintance with death, and to talk about it in such businesslike terms was strange.   
Reassuring and encouraging at the same time, Dennis patted him on the shoulder. "If he's lucky, it'll be quick."   
That didn't make it any better, but Dante nodded anyway. "Do you know where Tom went?" For the moment, he felt like in need for a comforting hug.   
"Whew. Blaise wanted to discuss something with him, but he's already gone back upstairs, I saw." Dennis shrugged. "Check his quarters."   
"Okay, thanks."

The tiny room Tom shared with Sawyer, Freddie and Jim was empty except for Freddie lolling on his bed, reading a comic. "Tom went to take a shower. Blaise didn't give him time to do that earlier, must have been important," Freddie answered Dante's question dozily and he nodded before turning away. Maybe Tom could use a little distraction or encouragement as well.   
At the door to the communal shower, however, Dante then paused, the words of greeting dying on his tongue.   
Tom's backside was covered from the neck down to the back of his knees with whip scars, some fresh and bright, others pale and only prominent from the warm water- it wasn't surprising. In addition, however, were red marks on both sides of his hip and right shoulder, and something on his neck with the suspicious appearance of a hickey.   
Dante was still wondering in surprise when Tom turned around.   
"Oh...hey..." At Dante's expressionless face, however, his smile immediately slipped away. "What is it?"   
"You obviously had fun."   
" _Blaise_ had fun." Tom retorted, flicking against his cage.   
"Probably not for the first time."   
"No."  
"And _when_ you were planning to tell me about it?"   
Tom shrugged. "I'm not necessarily happy about it, but there's nothing I can do either. And it doesn't change anything between you and me, anyway."   
"But your lack of honesty does change something." Dante turned away abruptly. Earlier in the morning, he had considered telling Tom about Frank's kiss, but then let it go- now he was sure it had been a good decision.   
"Oh, come on, Dante," Tom called after him, following with splashing wet feet. "Being called Blaise's favorite has to come from somewhere."   
"Maybe, but you, my friend, were the one who put a relationship on the line. I don't know what you think what that means, but-"   
"If you think Blaise is going to stop fucking me because of that, then you're misguided."   
"Not at all. But I would have liked to have known from the beginning." Dante cast a somber glance over his shoulder as he walked across the basement to get to the stairs.   
Tom hurried after him- naked, dripping wet- but didn't seem nearly as contrite as Dante would have thought appropriate. "It wouldn't have made any difference."   
"That's not the point, Tom, it's _honesty_."   
Tom sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine. Blaise takes out the second half of his bisexual energies on me, even taking the cage off me now and then."   
Dante reached the stairs and put his foot on the bottom step when Tom added "Better?" thus breaking the camel's back. "No. Too late."   
"Oh, Dante, don't be silly!"   
"Silly? You're calling me _silly_?" Angrily, Dante paused and half-turned. "I'm sorry, but I'm no longer wasting my precious free time with someone like you. You're a _slave_ and therefore not one notch better than me, Thomas, no matter what you imagine. Play your power games with someone else." Watching Tom turn pale was not the least bit satisfying, even if Dante had imagined it otherwise.   
"Dante, wait!"   
"We're done, Tom."   
"Dante!"   
Dante waved affectedly and continued up the stairs, letting a calm mask slide over his face. Briefly, he wondered what was going on inside Tom, but gruffly pushed the thought aside. There were more important things waiting for him.

~

"Is everything all right?", Frank wanted to know cautiously.   
Dante spat toothpaste foam into the sink and moved a bit to the side. "I'm perfectly fine." His voice was a few degrees too cold for this answer and Frank paused.   
"Because of me?" he asked sheepishly, and Dante frowned in irritation.   
"I had a fight with Tom." A nice euphemism for what could well be called a breakup.  
Frank sighed. "You're not going to be friends at all, are you?"   
"No, probably not." Dante ignored Frank's wistful expression and rinsed his mouth while Frank began brushing his teeth. He changed into his pajamas and slipped into bed. The annoyance at Tom shifted, with some delay, into real anger, and he wondered why on earth he had gotten into this in the first place. Had the tiny bit of freedom Mistress Alice allowed him gone to his head that much? Probably.   
"Was it bad?" Frank asked quietly, and Dante winced. "The fight."   
Dante snorted and waved it off. "Not important..."   
"If you say so..."   
Dante buried his face in the pillow, listening with half an ear to Frank's noises, and relaxed a little as the light went out.   
A little while later, Frank sighed. "Would you like one of my stuffed animals? It helps, you know. I mean, they don't hug you back, so if you'd rather have a real hug, then..." He cleared his throat. "Sorry. Just an idea. Doc Willers once said hugs were better than unnecessary medicine." Frank's concern was kind of sweet, but a little too much for Dante for the moment.   
"Thanks," he said gently, trying not to let his general annoyance get the best of him, "but I'm just in a... bad mood right now."   
"Hmm." The bed shook and Dante winced again as Frank's hand touched him on the back. Seconds later, a big warm body nestled against him and a heavy arm was wrapped around him. A feeling of confinement and intrusiveness took hold of him, causing a burning sensation in his stomach which almost built to something like panic as Frank rubbed his nose against the back of Dante's head. "You smell good," he muttered.   
Dante took a deep breath and gently pushed Frank's arm away- he let his hand rest lightly on Dante's waist and the panic ebbed almost as quickly as it had come, but left him feeling uneasy. Frank didn't seem to notice, but slipped quickly over into the dream worlds and Dante tried to move away unnoticed, but was unsuccessful.   
Frank's arm slid forward and he sighed comfortably into Dante's neck, whereupon the latter was shaken by a shudder. Frank sighed again, moved a little- and then the oppressive tightness also subsided. Although the heavy arm was still wrapped around him, Dante now felt rather secure. A little surprised at this strange, unfamiliar feeling, he now consciously tried to relax, and see, it worked. Warm sleepiness seeped into his limbs and with the thought that the anger and frustration could wait until tomorrow, he fell asleep.

~

"So, Dante... how unbearable is your stomachache _really_?"   
Dante half straightened up and was surprised to see Mistress Alice standing in the doorway with a critical look on her face, a steaming cup in one hand, a packet of stomach drops in the other- the kind of particularly bitter and nasty ones that made fake stomach pains tend to disappear all by themselves. Quickly he sat up properly. "I'll take the drops." His stomachache was real.   
Mistress Alice now actually entered his little room, placed both on his nightstand, and then sat down next to him on the bed. "How are you feeling?"   
"I have a stomachache," he said emphatically. Actually, Mistress Alice had not been expected back until dinner, but lunch, from which Dante had excused himself, could just be finished.   
"Did something hit you in the stomach?" she wanted to know, propping her elbows on her knees. "Adam? Or maybe Tom?"   
"Tom should..." He swallowed the rest of the remark out of politeness.   
"Frank said it must have been a bad fight," she said with some prompting in her voice, and Dante scowled at her.   
"We _'broke up,'_ " he said, drawing quotation marks in the air with his fingers.   
"The first breakup is always bad." she said with a gentle mockery, patting his knee.   
"Don't fuck with me!" he hissed at her and she raised a brow.   
"I warned you, Dante... but please, feel free to wallow in your homemade heartache." She stood up and made to leave the room.   
"I don't have a heartache! I have a stomachache, it happens."   
She paused, then turned with a sigh. "All right. Now apologize for being disrespectful, and you'll get what I brought you."   
"You brought me something, Mistress?" Puzzled, he looked at her and her brow twitched upward again. "I mean, please forgive my disrespect, Mistress, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I'm sorry." He dropped to his knees in front of the bed and looked at her pleadingly.   
"Oh Great Mother, what did I do to deserve you?" she murmured in agony and walked away.   
Dante, caught off guard by the conversation, surprised and confused at the same time, did not move until she came back and held out a book to him. **Avenging Angels** , was the title. "What is an angel?" he wanted to know, accepting the book. "Um, thank you, mistress, I'll treasure the gift," he added stammering and cringed- not so much as to ask forgiveness as from a stomach cramp.   
"Angels are beings appearing in fictional religions, used as messengers and protectors for humans by said fictional deities. Your divine namesake, Dante, would probably pass for an angel in other religions."   
"I see, thank you." He looked at the book cover, which showed the blurry figures of a woman and five men facing a castle on a hill. And then his eyes fell on the author's name: _Alice A. Mitchell_. Dumbfounded, he looked up. " _You_ wrote it?"   
A strange embarrassment settled on her face and she nodded. "My latest book, I'm writing the sequel right now."   
"Wow..." Now Blaise's comment about Mistress Alice writing actually made sense. He stroked the letters on the cover in awe.   
"If you want me to sell you after your restriction expires, at least you'll have something to remember your trip to farm life. Except for a few scars."   
"Thank you, mistress." It felt like that little word was too insufficient, but her strange, almost absent expression kept him from saying or even asking more.   
For a brief moment she seemed out of place, downright lost, and for an equally brief moment he felt the desire to take her protectively in his arms.


	16. Sometimes one word is enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I don't want to let you wait too long and I don't want the chapters getting too long, I cut this in half. Not much happening, but still. Have fun.

Dante sat on his bed, drinking the bitter herbal tea and admiring his newest possession. It was a strange feeling to hold in his hands a world created by his mistress, characters and destinies designed by her. He put the cup down and read the summary:   
_A princess on a quest for revenge. Five warriors to protect her- and all with their own plans. Six fallen angels stirring up the darkest fears and desires. The kingdom is on the brink, but is this fellowship the death blow or salvation?_   
That sounded dramatic enough to make Dante smile, and he kept turning the pages, skipping over the publisher's details and pausing at the dedication: _"For the warriors I have the privilege of knowing in real life- but especially for Frank."_ Below it was handwritten _'for Dante'_ and he stroked the blue ink. If she sold him, he certainly wouldn't forget her.

Mistress Alice sat at her desk and let her fingers fly over her keyboard. On her laptop, which stood diagonally next to her, a colorful chart glowed and papers were scattered next to it, all of which appeared to be handwritten notes.   
Slowly, Dante knelt beside her and lowered his gaze to his well-behaved folded hands. Kneeling humbly had never been his particular forte, but nevertheless he waited with all the patience he could muster. And indeed a good deal of time passed before Mistress Alice pushed her headphones back and sighed.   
"You are persistent."   
"It is not proper to leave such a position without you sending me away, Mistress."   
"I didn't call you."   
He looked up and indicated a shrug. "I wanted to apologize again, Mistress," he said seriously. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm really sorry, I was educated better than that. And I thank you very much for your gift, I don't deserve it."   
A wry smile on her lips, she sighed. "I was once told that kindness and patience achieve more than punishment. All right, what is it? Or was that already all?"   
"No." Only semi-successfully did he try to stifle a grin. "I have a question about the book- or two, actually."   
She made a prompting gesture and turned her chair toward him.   
"Why is Frank mentioned in the dedication? And why is Aris called Aris? It sounds awkwardly like Ares."   
A smile flitted across her face. "How much have you read?"   
"The first chapter."   
She nodded thoughtfully and her gaze wandered briefly into the distance. "I explained to you, didn't I, that our daughters and sons of the Great Mother could pass for angels in other religions under certain circumstances?"   
"Yes." he confirmed quietly.   
"Well, in the religion there, there are different angels and one of them is called Ares. According to legend, a great warrior. Aris' father wanted his younger son to be a great warrior, so he chose a name that sounds very similar, because to choose the name of the angel himself would be blasphemy." She gave him a mocking look, then continued: "But that will come up sometime later. You could answer your other question yourself with the second chapter."   
"Frank appears in the book?" He raised a brow skeptically and she shook her head.   
"No. But surely you've noticed that Aris is not the brightest light of the night."   
"Yes, but... oh, mistress, that's mean. Frank is not stupid." As indignation rose in him, a gentle expression settled on Mistress Alice's face.   
"No, he isn't. But he and Aris have some things in common, like an accident that changed them forever."   
"I still think the comparison is unfair," he muttered defiantly. Part of him scolded him a fool for being so critical of his mistress' motivations; another part wondered why he was so protective of Frank.   
She was still smiling. "But who among the readers knows Frank? Who can actually make a connection? I explained it to you, but no one else knows, and by the way, no one cares about the dedications anyway."   
Still critical, he raised a brow, but before he could formulate his next comment, she asked:   
"Speaking of Frank... was it okay to spend the nights at his place?"   
"Of course. I think it did him quite a bit of good."   
Now it was she who raised a brow.   
"I mean," Dante began his explanation, "he seems a little lonely, and I think it was quite good to have someone completely focused on him for a little while."   
A guilty expression flitted across Mistress Alice's face. "You guys talked a bit...?"   
He nodded simply.   
"Good." She hesitated, and again her gaze wandered into the distance before she continued. "I won't violate his trust in you and I won't ask about what you talked. But if there is something you think would be better or important for the family to know, then please, Dante, tell me."   
He nodded again, and because he had already mentioned it to Tom, he told his mistress about it as well, although again, he casually skipped the kiss: "He asked a few questions. Those... teenage questions." To his astonishment, Mistress Alice seemed startled at first, before a- strangely forced-looking- relief spread through her posture.   
"So he _is_ developing after all, then."   
"Perhaps he has simply lacked a confidant until now, though I do wonder why that should be _me_ , of all people, when he hardly knows me."   
"Have you asked him about it?"  
"Yeah, but...", Dante shrugged a little helplessly, "I mean, me being honest and reminding him about Anthony can't be everything."   
"... and I thought he had found a brotherly confidant in Tom."  
"He said Tom wasn't honest with him," Dante stated matter-of-factly, and Mistress Alice again raised a brow to unexpected heights.   
"I take it from your face that you can relate to his statement."   
"That Tom didn't tell me about his past as a free man, I can sympathize with, but... he should have told me about Blaise-" He swallowed the word, after all, he was talking about his mistress's father here, who was making a strange face.   
"That Pa is fucking him? Well, it must come from somewhere that he's considered Pa's favorite."   
"Did you know?"   
"No. But it doesn't surprise me either." She shrugged almost disinterested. "Is that why you quit this pathetic little game?"   
Exasperated, Dante pursed his lips; kneeling before his mistress like this, he suddenly felt very vulnerable and strangely compelled to answer. "If he feels abused, I don't want him to compensate with me." To his astonishment, she reached out and caressed his cheek.   
"Some people love to play with power, others actually just want to compensate for something. Only for the one who suffers from it, it usually makes no difference."   
He wasn't sure what she was getting at, which was why he held still and didn't give an answer. In fact, after a moment, she sighed.   
"You won't like it, but you'll still be working with Frank and Tom again, starting tomorrow."   
He hadn't expected anything else, so he nodded devotedly. "Yes, mistress."   
"Rest a little longer, but later you will help with dinner and be present."   
"Yes, mistress." A little awkwardly because out of practice, he rose and even bowed, which Mistress Alice acknowledged with a roll of her eyes, which he answered with a mocking smile, which in turn brought an amused twinkle to her eyes.

~

Blaise said the grace.   
Since it was usually the women who did so, this circumstance was thus noteworthy enough that no one reached for the silverware after letting go of each other. The silence following made the back of Dante's neck prickle until Miss Carolyn finally cleared her throat and said gravely:   
"Adam has cancer. He'll be coming home tomorrow or the next day to spend his last weeks here."   
Out of the corner of his eye, Dante saw Seth nod thoughtfully, as if he had expected nothing else. Jack gave a strange whimper, but then remained silent, instead Frank took the floor:   
"Are you going to buy someone new, Ma?" His pitiful tone would definitely have suited Jack better.   
"Later, Frank, not right away," Miss Carolyn replied surprisingly gently. "Adam has served us well for many years and we will honor him for it." To this was probably added the sober fact that one did not need so many working hands on a farm in the winter, but of course no one said so. Instead, the meal was now begun.

A bit lacking in appetite and still with an underlying stomach rumble, Dante was poking at his already unusually small portion when Mistress Alice asked, conspicuously casually:   
"How's Flynn settling in?"   
Presumably all eyes twitched briefly to Flynn, who perked up with red ears.   
"They always have a few problems at first, you know..." replied Miss Britney no less conspicuously casually, "but he's well-pleasing."   
"You'd expect as much from someone like him." Mistress Alice returned snidely, and Dante saw Flynn now blushing completely.   
"Oh, my... does Dante lack for anything? Do you want Flynn to show him a few things?" Now it was Miss Britney who scoffed snidely and Dante who got red ears.   
"Not in the least. His behavior was impeccable. You'd think he'd missed me."   
"And I thought you just went for free men..."   
"She didn't have a slave at all before..." Miss Sarah remarked decidedly calm, almost dismissively.   
"Right, well that must be quite an adventure now..." Miss Britney giggled affectedly and Mistress Alice snorted.   
"I stand by my opinion: only free men will give you what you need and want."   
"Dear, if you're talking about feelings-" Miss Sarah began, but was interrupted by both a clearing of the throat by Miss Carolyn and Mistress Alice:   
"I'm not."   
"What do you expect from a man, hmm?", Miss Britney wanted to know disdainfully, and Mistress Alice snorted again, her tone indicating that the conversation was over for her:   
"As long as you're happy with a whore, you don't understand the answer anyway."   
"Girls, that's enough." Miss Carolyn's cool interjection was actually unnecessary.   
Dante, on the other hand, wondered what his mistress had intended by such a provocation.   
"The children don't need to hear such things," Blaise added quietly.   
"The girls will have slaves of their own later," Miss Britney returned.   
"They're a long way from that. And Jack is definitely too young for that kind of talk."   
"Grandpa," Jack promptly chirped in between, "Grandpa, what's a whore?"   
"Men like Flynn." Jessy said emotionless. Something clanged loudly in the embarrassed silence.   
"But-", Jack began confused, only to be interrupted by Miss Carolyn:   
"That's enough! Dinner is over!" Her tone was like a whip lash and Dante involuntarily ducked his head, even Seth quirked an unhappy face. "Jessy, you go to your room until I talk to you! Alice and Britney, you're coming with me!" She wheezed. "Really, where are we?"

In the kitchen, TJ nudged Dante. "Do you know what that was about?"   
"I have no idea," Dante returned with a shrug, in exchange for which Seth sighed.   
"Miss Alice was inquiring what had been going on in her absence." Strangely awkward, he set a couple of plates down on the countertop. "I guess this was her way of bringing the subject to the table so blatantly it _must_ be talked about."   
"Yeah, but... why the whole point?", Dante wanted to know.   
"She made her opinion known and... presumably this is her way of expressing support for Jessy." Seth grimaced and Dante raised an eyebrow.   
"You mean because Miss Carolyn is finally talking to Jessy now?" Daniel asked, oddly skeptical, and Seth nodded.   
"From behind through the chest to the knee... it doesn't get much more roundabout than that," TJ grumbled, shaking his head uncomprehendingly.   
"I'm not a whore.", Flynn muttered defiantly from the background and when Dante turned to him, he got a venomous look.   
"I guess you can't get out of that box," he said anyway, and Flynn pressed his lips together for a moment.   
"Like you know what it's like to serve with full body commitment on a daily basis."   
Oddly, that elicited a grin from Dante- he ignored Seth's admonishing look. "You're right, sugar blossom, I don't know. But if I'm honest, then I'd rather haul wood that weighs more than you than serve a mistress like yours." He sent a wink afterward. "And I still have my fun."   
"That's enough, guys. You don't have to do a dance here like the ladies outside." Seth's tone brooked no argument. "Do your jobs."


	17. Be my Guest

"Hey, Sugar Blossom, send Dante up to see me!"   
"Yes, Miss Alice."   
Dante, already standing at the foot of the stairs, grinned and scurried back into the hallway and kitchen. It hadn't been his intention to give Flynn a new nickname, but it had only taken a few days before _'sugar blossom'_ had become cemented. Flynn hated him for it.   
"Hey..." Flynn grumbled as he entered the kitchen. "Miss Alice sent for you."   
Dante merely nodded at him and Seth, who had already pulled a funny face after Dante had unexpectedly reappeared, now looked almost annoyed.   
"What are you doing here anyway, Flynn? Miss Britney wanted a bath."   
"Miss Alice has-"   
"Your own mistress always comes first," Dante lectured him in an overly friendly manner before Seth could.   
"The bathtub fills up on its own, anyway."   
"Don't even _start_ with that," Seth began his lecturing after all, and Dante nodded eagerly.   
"Listen to him, Sugar Blossom, a man like him has a lot of experience." For that he got a deadly glare from Flynn and an annoyed sigh from Seth, but Dante gave them both a cheerful smile and now really went to his mistress.

"Mistress, I- uh, mistress?" Her room was empty and dark to boot. Confused, he stepped back into the hallway.   
"Frank, I beg you, your petulance only provokes it!" Mistress Alice's voice sounded through Frank's half-open door at that moment, and Dante knocked there half-heartedly before entering. Mistress Alice was dressed simple, yet noticeably better than usual; Frank, on the other hand, was standing next to his closet in sweatpants and a washed-out shirt, pouting, his curls still clinging damp to his forehead from his shower.   
"Dante, do something," Mistress Alice demanded.   
"Um, do what?"   
She pointed at her brother. "He needs to put on something respectable. Otherwise, Ma's going to take it out on both of us."   
"That's not fair!" Frank grumbled and Dante sighed.  
"Nothing in life is fair."   
"That's not helping!"   
Dante shrugged. "What am I supposed to do? Dress him up like a doll?"   
Frank grimaced even more and Mistress Alice growled wordlessly.   
"He's a free man." Dante added with a clear look of what he thought of this illegal handling here and she glared angrily at him.   
"Freedom is also a constraint, Dante. An invisible one, perhaps, but a constraint nonetheless. And in this case, Frank is compelled to follow social conventions."   
"He isn't. He could give a damn and stay here in comfortable clothes."   
"Well, then he's still forced to choose. Birthday party on the one hand, punishment on the other. Please, little brother, choose wisely." With an exaggerated bow, Mistress Alice turned to Frank, who made a face once more.   
"You're mean."   
"No, I'm not. You know perfectly well that Ma will be furious if you insist on staying here."   
Dante smiled sympathetically and shrugged helplessly; Frank sighed.   
"Plague and cholera- what a choice."   
"At least you _have_ a choice." Mistress Alice grumbled annoyed, giving Dante a quick glance.   
"Come on, Frank, put on something nice. You congratulate politely and then stay inconspicuously in the background until it's polite to leave," Dante said gently and Frank sighed deeply. Dante expected some retort, but Frank merely sighed a second time and then gestured toward the closet.   
"And what should I wear?" he asked sullenly.   
Mistress Alice began to search through his things without hesitation, pulling out something here and there and finally shaking her head as she handed him something. "You need some new clothes badly."   
"And a haircut." Dante interjected quietly and Frank sighed again.   
"That means a trip to Townsend. Ew. I don't want to."  
"That's enough!" Apparently, Mistress Alice's patience for her little brother was not infinite. "You're twenty-three, not three! Great Mother, I seriously wonder what Lucia sees in you..."   
"Love you, too..." Frank returned, surprisingly dry.   
Dante tried in vain to stifle a grin, and Mistress Alice sighed.   
"Get dressed and then come downstairs. Dante, when our stubborn toddler is finished, go back to the kitchen."   
"Yes, Mistress."

"My goodness, I look like Pa." Frank stared critically at his reflection.   
Dante, leaning against the wardrobe, grinned. "Maybe it's working as a deterrent."   
"Let's hope so..."   
"You really don't like her, hmm?"   
"No. How many times do you want me to repeat it?"   
"Well, you could just kiss her back and then maybe you'll change your mind." At the strange look he got, Dante shrugged exaggeratedly slowly. "Just an idea..."   
"I doubt it." Frank's look began to unsettle Dante, but that's when he turned back to the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair- in a gesture Dante had seen on Blaise many times before, and one that emphasized the striking resemblance between father and son.   
"You shouldn't keep your sister waiting."  
"No..." Frank sighed again and tugged at the hem of his sweater.

~

Mikey had complained earlier about how cold it was in the basement by now, and Dante had to agree with him; in fact, he was looking forward to wearing slippers in the near future. He shivered and cracked a smile as he passed the slave kitchen, where Dennis waved at him in greeting, a paring knife in his hand. The door to Blaise's office was open, so he knocked more as a courtesy before taking a step inside.   
"Dante... ah, are those Seth's papers?" Blaise leaned back and smiled cheerfully.   
"Yes. He asked me to remind you about the copies."   
"Right, the copies..."   
Dante handed him the papers Seth had shoved into his hand and wiggled his cold toes.   
"I know, it's cold down here. But wait and see when the snow falls," Blaise muttered after a sideways glance, flipping through a stack of documents next to the printer. "I wish Ma would allow us to heat this area a little more than the bare minimum."   
"Why do you call your wife _Ma_ , anyway?", Dante wanted to know curiously.   
Blaise laughed softly. "It kind of crept in after Britney was born." But then he paused and a subtle frown settled on his face. "You didn't grow up with your parents, did you?"   
"No."   
With a sympathetic nod, Blaise stood up and then held out papers to Dante. "Well, I hope you found a nice home here. Despite the little squabbles..."   
Dante, receiving a companionable pat on the back, nodded silently and forced a smile. Even if his own father were like Blaise, there was nothing he could have done to prevent Dante from being given away; even a free man didn't have enough rights to object when the mother of his child decided something, and in Denser's Port, nearly all women looked down on free men.   
"Dinner will be ready soon," he then said to somehow end the conversation, and Blaise nodded.   
"Good, good..."   
Dante nodded back and turned to leave. A few steps further, however, he was almost run over by Tom, who stepped out of the work slave pantry.   
"Oops, sorry, I-"   
"No harm done," Dante said hastily, moving on before Tom could say anything more. The teamwork had gone very quietly and professionally, but Dante could tell by Tom's face that he would have loved to talk to him.   
"Hey... why don't you come down and join us later? I'm sure the others will want to see the match, but Blaise brought some new playing cards and Dennis would be happy to-"   
"I'll think about it..." Dante gave back over his shoulder, shaking his head inwardly- there was a book in his possession waiting for him.

~

Dante rubbed his eyes and groped uncertainly for the right pan. To his surprise, it had been Seth and TJ who had dragged him downstairs to join the workers. Along with Dennis, Tom and later even Jim, they had played cards for far too long, and now Dante yawned unabashedly at the fridge, his dry lips and the corners of his mouth stretching.   
"I'll bet the butter could just see all the way down into your stomach."   
At Frank's sudden remark, he winced and turned around. "Morning, Fra-" Hissing, he sucked in the air and took a step toward Frank, whose lower lip was chapped and swollen. "Great Mother, what happened?" Uncertainly, he raised a hand, but then stood there foolishly while Frank went to the open fridge and took out the bowl of eggs.   
"Chronologically or by priority?"   
"... chronologically." Dante replied slowly. Even though he had been up late, Mistress Alice and Frank had come home even later.   
Frank shrugged. "I was polite and tried to stay out of Lucia's way while staying close to Alice. Didn't really work. She tried to kiss me, I politely said _no_ \- she was offended and got into an argument with Alice. We then went home, but Lucia seriously called here and complained." He paused and touched his lip briefly.   
"Does it hurt much?" Dante asked quietly, still caught off guard.   
"It looks worse than it is. T'was Britney, by the way, trying to get me to understand that I'm supposed to be doing my duty." There was bitterness in Frank's voice which hurt Dante just from listening to it.   
"Is there anything I can do?" The question sounded as helpless and powerless as Dante felt.   
"Breakfast." Frank replied quietly, pulling up the non-swollen corner of his mouth. "Dinner at the Parkers' was horrible."   
Dante forced a smile to his lips as well and got to work, but as he slowly stirred the sumptuous breakfast in the pan, Frank suddenly wrapped his arms around him from behind.   
"I just don't want to kiss Lucia," he said in a strongly defensive tone. "And... I don't think I want to kiss any woman at all."   
Dante felt Frank's fingers twitch nervously.   
"Is that bad?"   
"No. I think the only ones who'll have a problem with it are women like Britney or slaves like Sugar Blossom."   
Frank didn't reply, but just snuggled closer to Dante for a moment, and only when Dante started to get uncomfortable did he murmur: "I'm glad you're here." Then he let go of Dante, grabbed his cup from the cupboard, and made himself coffee as if nothing had ever happened.

~

"What happened?" Tom also wanted to know as they trudged through the frosty morning.   
"Was Britney," Frank grumbled. "She wants me to kiss Lucia."   
As Tom gave him a quick questioning look, Dante grimaced in denial and shook his head.   
"Kissing can be a very nice thing," Tom then said lightheartedly. "Really."   
"Would you want to kiss Lucia?" asked Frank, still grumpy.   
"No. But I generally don't like women very much." Tom hesitated for a moment. "You know, it's okay if you'd rather kiss a man."   
"Hmm.", Frank made indecisive. "I still don't see what's so great about it."   
"It'll come..." As Tom lovingly ruffled Frank's hair, Dante wondered why Frank was being so closed off to Tom. _'You're not honest with me, so I'm not honest with you.'_ wasn't a very good strategy in the long run, but he'd probably better explain that to him in private.

~

Two days later, Dante was somewhat surprised when Mistress Alice did not keep him in the house for the preparations for the Horners' visit, but put him and Frank in the car and drove them to Townsend.   
They spent a few hours in various clothing stores buying new clothes for Frank- which neither of them particularly enjoyed- and afterwards Mistress Alice pushed her brother- who protested vehemently- into a high-class hair salon. Dante felt rather out of place, but the two slaves who were looking after Frank until the Lady of the Trade had time chatted so light-heartedly that this soon subsided. In the end, Frank was actually happy- in Dante's opinion, the sides were far too short and the curls on the top of his head too long, but what did his opinion matter- and plucked a daring curl into his forehead.   
"Where are we going now?" he wanted to know as they stepped onto the sidewalk.   
Mistress Alice frowned thoughtfully, and when Dante followed her gaze, which fell on a cozy café, he shook his head weakly. She sighed. "Since I'm sure Ma won't like it if Dante stays away from the preparations altogether, we'll just go to the drugstore really quick and then head back home."

And so, a little later, Dante and Frank trotted through the store, which was completely overloaded with smells and flashing with unpleasant cleanliness. Mistress Alice had a basket on her arm and was taking a decidedly long time.  
"Here, smell this."   
Dante winced as she held a bottle under his nose; he'd been so focused on bodyguard mode that he'd paid too little attention to his mistress in person. "Smells like cotton candy." he said, rubbing his nose.   
"Perfect."   
"I thought you liked cherry more."   
"Right, but this is for Jessy. Speaking of which... Frank, be a dear and get me another basket, will you?"   
"Sure..." Frank disappeared between the shelves and Mistress Alice passed the basket, which was starting to get heavy, to Dante before tossing a few more things in. He stifled a remark that he still had plenty of shower jelly and such, but then raised an eyebrow when she tossed two packs of condoms into the basket.   
"You don't spend that much time with Valentine..." he muttered to her.   
"Who says they're for me?" she returned with a cheeky grin.   
"Well, certainly not for Jessy."   
"What about you?"   
"I certainly don't need any either." And since he couldn't imagine her buying condoms for Miss Britney or her Ma, or that Miss Sarah had much need at the moment, he seriously wondered what she was up to with them, but he didn't inquire further, especially since they were out in public and Frank had returned with an empty basket.   
"Do you need anything?" she wanted to know and Frank shook his head. "Fine..." Determined, she went on, tossing several lip balms into Dante's basket- and then clearing what must have been a dozen of them into Frank's basket.   
"What are you going to do with all of them?" Frank asked dumbfounded, before Dante could.   
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked back, moving one shelf ahead, where she determinedly tossed hand lotions and foot creams into the second basket.   
"They are for the workers," Dante said with a questioning undertone, and she nodded, turning to him.   
"You look terrible already, and winter is yet to come." Fleetingly, she touched his dry lips.   
"You've never done this before." Frank seemed positively caught off guard and she gave him a smile.   
"Things change, Frank."   
"True enough, but..." He left the sentence unfinished and she gave him a gentle nudge.   
"Come on, our boys deserve a little attention."   
"That's right too..."   
"Oh, Dante, before I forget, the green lipstick is for really bad times, the light blue is for daily care."   
"Thank you, Mistress." he mumbled, a little embarrassed, and promptly licked his dry lips. Inwardly, he shook his head at himself- a few months ago, he would have laughed if someone had told him he would someday be excited about the prospect of slippers and lip balms.

~

"Good evening, Miss Horner." Bowing deeply, Dante made an inviting gesture.   
"Maggie. I talked to your grandmother on the phone earlier, but tell me, is it really just a cold?" Miss Carolyn sounded genuinely concerned.   
"Yes, just a cold, but at her age..." Maggie Horner had a thin voice which sounded as if it might fail at any moment. She was leaning on a cane as well as her older brother, Matthew, but smiled brightly.   
Matthew gave Dante a brief irritated glance, but then stepped aside as Mistress Alice rushed over and grabbed Maggie's arm.   
"Hello, Maggie!"   
"Alice!"   
Miss Carolyn smiled indulgently. "Charles, Robert..."   
The two men- father and uncle to Maggie and Matthew- had already closed the door and nodded in unison. "Miss Mitchell."   
"My, my... Carolyn is quite enough. How many times do I have to say this actually?"   
Charles grinned. "Every time."   
"I'm afraid so."

The seating arrangement surprised Dante, as did the somewhat odd greeting or the fact that there were merely four of the Horners. Miss Carolyn sat with Blaise, Robert, and Charles on one side of the table, the young adults on the other with the three children as if as a buffer between them; even their conversations had absolutely nothing to do with each other.   
As Dante and Seth had served the light first course and Dante casually posted himself behind his mistress, Maggie said into a pause of conversation:   
"Anne's pregnant, by the way."  
"Again?" Miss Britney asked with a roll of her eyes, and Maggie shrugged.   
"She didn't tell me her reasons over the phone. But she's always wanted a big family."  
"Cue _big family_..." Miss Sarah nudged Matthew, who was suddenly looking uncomfortable, with her elbow, "when are you going to find yourself a wife, Matty? Children don't fall from the sky."   
"It's not that much of a hurry..." he muttered, blushing.   
"You know I'm no help to you there." Maggie poked- intentionally or not- the same wound.   
"What about Lucia?" interjected Miss Britney innocently. "After Frank repeatedly rejected her-"   
"Lucia Parker is _not_ coming into my house," Maggie retorted sharply, giving Frank a sympathetic smile. "The woman is a plague."   
"I know." Those were the first words he said that evening, Dante noticed. Though he also noticed now how Matthew was squinting at Mistress Alice, who was pointing her fork at him at that moment.   
"Sarah's right, you know. Your farm could do with a strong woman."   
"Exactly, Matty. Isn't there one you like?" Miss Sarah nudged him again, decidedly good-humored.   
He nudged back and smiled teasingly at her. "You're already taken."   
"But not married," she returned, blushing.   
He shook his head and then patted her belly with surprising affection. "This isn't a good idea and you know it."   
"If Anne keeps this up, you might adopt one of her brats," Miss Britney butted in again.   
"And if _you_ keep it up, brother dear, you'll never have any children," Maggie remarked with a wistful sigh.   
"I've got time."   
"But the farm doesn't." Mistress Alice sad quietly, and he looked at her, perhaps for a moment too long, before lowering his eyes and blushing.   
"I know."

"Okay, guys, give me a summary of everything I need to know about the Horners and the Stones," Dante said as he hurried into the kitchen a while later; all the gossip he'd had to listen to was still glowing in his ears.   
Daniel and TJ raised their brows in equal surprise.   
"Facts or gossip?", Daniel finally wanted to know.   
"Both."   
"The Horners are in financial trouble," Daniel began matter-of-factly, but TJ shook his head.   
"Wrong end of the stick, Daniel. So... hard facts: Matthew has a crush on Miss Alice. Miss Sarah had a crush on Matthew in the past. Matthew used to date Anne Stone. Victor Stone is Miss Alice's ex-boyfriend. The Horners are having financial difficulties and Miss Britney is eager for the day when the Mitchells can take in the Horners as tenants- the Stones are also neighbors but do not have as great financial resources. Gossip: Anne had her eye on the farm after Melanie's death and Maggie's diagnosis, and was only with Matthew because of it. Depending on who you ask, she left him for one of the following reasons: he's impotent. He actually had it in for Victor. She and Victor are in an incestuous relationship. He just wanted her money."   
"TJ, that's enough!" Daniel interrupted him angrily.   
"Why? Dante asked."   
Dante was actually a little overwhelmed with the amount of sudden information. "Who's Melanie?"   
"The middle Horner child. She died of leukemia when she was a teenager," Daniel replied. "Anne Stone is talked about a lot, by the way, because-"   
"Because the Stones are just weird," TJ interjected. "The Washingtons only have sons, the Horners are just unlucky, and the Stones are weird."   
Daniel sighed in annoyance. " _TJ_... What I was going to say: Anne's oldest child Sophie is severely handicapped, both mentally and physically, and of course that just gave a lot of fuel to the incest rumors."   
Dante nodded. "Forgive me for saying so, but Sarah and Matthew still seem very close." To his surprise, it was Seth, laden with plates, who suddenly appeared next to Dante, who replied:   
"They were thick as thieves as kids, and it hit Miss Sarah hard when he chose Anne. But she got over it. Now, enough gossip, clear the table."   
"Sure..."

With a little more background knowledge, certain things were suddenly obvious, Dante thought, slightly amused.   
Matthew and Miss Sarah would have made a cute couple, but his eyes kept wandering to Mistress Alice, who took no notice and instead talked a lot to Maggie. It was she who later helped Maggie to the car and still later stood in her room with a satisfied smile, undressing just as Dante entered the room after a rather perfunctory tidying.   
"What do you think of the Horners?" she wanted to know straight out, slipping into her pajama top and turning around.   
He shrugged. "Seems like a troubled family to me."   
Her smile faded. "I guess that's true. Cara was Ma's best friend until she... well, they say she killed herself because of postnatal depression, but that's not talked about. Just like Melanie or Maggie's mysterious illness isn't talked about." She sighed and he began unbuttoning his jacket. "Frank should have gone to them as an education slave," she then said quietly. "But that was the plan before certain disasters..."   
_That's how quickly the mood can tip_ , Dante thought guiltily. "I'm sure he and Matthew would have gotten along just fine." From what he'd overheard, Matthew was in charge of a lot of technical repairs around here and had dropped a comment or two about Frank's work.   
"They do just fine, but Matthew is... a little overwhelmed with Frank, I think, besides all the concern for Maggie. Like most, he underestimates him."   
"That's pretty easy to do," Dante pointed out, and Mistress Alice sighed.   
"I know... Well, what the heck. Good night, Dante."   
"Good night, Mistress." She extinguished her bedside lamp and in the dark Dante went to the bathroom, thinking with a strange feeling in his stomach that Mistress Alice again had seemed like she could have used a comforting hug.


	18. Somewhere between lover, brother and slave

"Hey!" Dante protested with a laugh, ducking under the crumb TJ threw at him before taking a crumb himself and aiming it at TJ. The puff pastry, while delicious, had left quite a mess on the table and underneath.   
"You throw so bad-" began TJ with a sardonic grin, but Miss Carolyn barked in between:  
"Really! Worse than the little kids!"   
"Mistress, I-" It was probably just Dante's luck to be on the wrong side of the table, because TJ got a hard slap in the face.   
"You clean the dining room! _By yourself!_ Dante, Alice called for you."   
"Yes, Miss Carolyn." Hastily he dropped his rag on the dining room table and made to get away; in the background Miss Carolyn continued to nag.

The rushing of water came from Mistress Alice's bathroom and he knocked on the closed door.   
"Mistress?"   
"Come in!"   
He slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him before leaning against it; his Mistress stood under the shower and faint cherry scent hung in the warm humid air. "You just saved me from a telling off from your mother. Thanks for that."  
She snorted. "You're welcome." The shower walls were wet and fogged, but her silhouette was still clearly visible, and Dante caught himself letting his gaze wander along her. "I've been talking to Frank. He'd really like it if you stayed over at his place on a regular basis. And you know what? You'll get a chance to do that right away: I'll go over to Maggie's and stay there." As she spoke, she turned off the water and then stepped out of the shower.   
Dante nodded and handed her her towel, fleetingly thinking that he'd rather sleep in her bed than Frank's, but he pushed the thought aside and remarked with careful amusement: "Maggie won't be the only one delighted."   
She sighed and gave him a stern look. "No boys at the sleepover."   
"Poor Matthew..."   
With a roll of her eyes, she began to towel herself off.   
"What's up with the rumors about him, anyway?" he then followed up.   
"Nothing." she replied promptly.   
"Nothing?"   
"Nothing. Since he's very obviously interested in me, he's hardly gay, at most bi, and even that's nobody's business. And his potency really doesn't need discussion now."   
"Oh, do you know from personal experience?"   
"No."   
"Then why do you defend him so vehemently?"   
"Because he's a good guy."   
"Yes, but-"   
"Anne left him because, unlike many others here, he takes his membership in the Brotherhood very seriously."   
"What kind-"   
"But I wasn't going to gossip with you about Matthew now. Be a good slave and take care of Frank." Mistress Alice was clearly annoyed, and so Dante nodded hastily, his head lowered.   
"Yes, Mistress. I beg your pardon." He could be cheeky and insolent all he wanted, but as soon as she was in a bad mood, he'd just get himself in trouble and maybe even damage the good relationship- and he certainly didn't want that. "Is there anything I can do for you first?" he wanted to know quietly.   
"No."

~

Frank was in the process of putting freshly washed clothes into his closet and had to pull up his sweatpants, which were slipping alarmingly, after almost every move. "Hey..." he said a little absently.   
"Hey... your pants are slipping."   
"No kidding. The ribbon broke earlier." Frank made an annoyed sound. "Alice is with Maggie?"   
"She's probably leaving in the next few minutes, yeah..." Dante nodded and put down the things he'd brought with him. "Speaking of... she mentioned that Matthew belongs to a brotherhood. Do you know anything about that?" To his surprise, Frank gave a grunt, half snide, half offended.   
" _The Brotherhood of the Thorn Rose_. It's a religious thing. But I don't really know anything either, except that they all have some tattoo down there somewhere."   
"Hmm." Dante sauntered over to Frank and leaned against the closet. "Must be important, though, if Anne left him for that."   
Frank's reply was a shrug, and as he stretched to stow a pair of jeans somewhere further up, his pants made a final descent. Only in his long-sleeved shirt and socks- why wasn't he wearing any underpants anyway?- he looked a little ridiculous and Dante grinned. With an annoyed growl, Frank shook his pants off his feet and then said: "Stop laughing."   
"I'm not laughing, I'm just grinning."   
Something in Frank's face twitched and then Dante squealed as Frank lunged and tickled him. "I'll give you a _real_ reason to laugh..."   
"Oh! Hey... stop it... that's not... _not fair_... I..." Dante squirmed, chuckling, and tried to counterattack several times, but Frank's hands seemed to be everywhere and, not being used to such attacks, he was quickly completely out of breath and slipped under Frank's renewed attack with the last of his strength- only to stumble against the doorframe of the bathroom door.   
Frank grinned broadly. "Had enough laughs?"   
"I surrender!" gasped Dante, face contorted under a maniacal grin.   
"Excuse me?" Frank braced himself against the wall beside him, which might have been threatening in another moment, but still looked rather silly considering the lack of pants.   
"I..." Dante gasped, his stomach muscles aching. "I surrender, sir." Great Mother, the last time he'd been tickled like this had to have been at the Children's Home. He looked up, saw Frank's suddenly thoughtful expression, and was about to say that this had been really fun when Frank suddenly leaned over and kissed him hard.   
The kiss was over faster than he could react from surprise, and then Frank had turned away and entered the bathroom.   
"About the brotherhood, you could ask Pa..."   
"Yeah..." mumbled Dante, caught off guard.

Dante had made himself comfortable, the blanket up to his chin, when Frank quietly said:   
“I was thinking…”   
“… yeah? About what?”   
“About what you said.”   
“I think I said a lot…”   
“Yeah, but… I mean the kissing.”   
“Oh…?”   
“I like it.”, Frank said shyly. “And I would like to kiss you a bit more…”   
“Oh, um…” Dante didn’t know what to say, was asking himself again if he should say _no_ , if he was supposed to say _no_ or… what if Mistress Alice had had exactly this in mind? He couldn’t imagine for real, but still…   
Frank’s hand was moving over his arm to his shoulder and to his face, cupping his cheek and the next moment warm lips pressed on his. It felt like a shy request and Dante was annoyed at himself for not hesitating before kissing back- yes, he liked kissing, no doubt about it, but Frank was for sure not the best choice. Or the wisest.   
As much as Frank’s tongue pushed into his mouth it pushed into his thoughts, slowly and anew as a request, and the second Dante opened his mouth the timeframe for stopping all this snapped shut. The kissing was slow but intense, way more than any kiss of Tom ever had been, and when Frank’s hand slowly crept under Dante’s pajama top to caress his belly and chest, his dick sprang to life. This was something completely different from Tom's stolen kisses, somewhere in the cold basement with the fear of being caught unpleasantly in the back of his neck.   
Gently, almost tenderly, Frank caressed Dante's back, running his fingertips along the whip scars which had turned into palpable welts, and just as Dante had convinced himself to return the gesture, Frank's careful movements beckoned him to take off his top. Nervous excitement shot through his limbs as he pulled the shirt over his head and noticed Frank doing the same. How far would Frank go? How far would he let Frank go? Would he even say _stop_ at any point?   
But first he sank back into the soft bed and realized how good warm naked skin felt on warm naked skin. Frank's erection pressed through their pants into his lap, stirring up a certain fear and slight reluctance of what might be coming, but it was also strangely arousing. And most of all, it was a strangely invigorating, arousing, exciting feeling to feel Frank getting goosebumps and shuddering under his touch, his whole body twitching and a low moan escaping him as Dante gently played with his nipple. He straightened up a little to have more freedom for movements and brushed his lips over Frank's cheek up to his neck. When he kissed him just below the ear, Frank shuddered again. He had learned a bit from Tom and so he nibbled gently on Frank's earlobe, drew patterns on his neck with the tip of his tongue and bit gently into his collarbone.   
With a low moan, Frank grabbed Dante by the waist, pulled him half on top of him and with the intoxicating feeling of being wanted, Dante placed sucking kisses on Frank's chest before turning to his nipples. Frank's body shook and his warm rough hands slid under the waistband of Dante's pants, grabbing his butt and fondling it. Dante could feel Frank's dick twitching, sucked on his nipple and smiled as he let out a lustful whimper. With touches and kisses Dante elicited sweet little sounds from him and again and again a shudder or a twitch and it felt _awesome_. He slid a hand between them and into Frank's pants, just enough to tease his tip a little, and Frank jerked his hips and moaned.   
"Dante..."   
With a smile, Dante leaned over, kissed Frank's neck, sucked on his earlobe, and noticed casually how Frank was kneading his ass with twitching fingers. He opened his mouth, but the words on the tip of his tongue died away. They were words Tom had whispered to him while he had jerked him off, and that felt wrong. More than that, he realized now that he had let himself get carried away by the power Frank's lust was giving him, and he suddenly felt pretty sleazy. Was it actually punishable to seduce a man considered mentally retarded?   
Frank, however, interpreted Dante's hesitation differently and turned the tables.   
Dante gasped for air, which was cut off by a hard greedy kiss. Now Frank was lying half on top of him, literally pressing him into the mattress; the sensuality that Dante attributed to himself was obviously completely lost on Frank. Still, a moan escaped Dante's lips as Frank's mouth moved along his neck, sucking and kissing, and Frank's hands pulled down his pants. Of course, this didn't leave him cold, but the arousal his body felt only partially reached his mind, which was rather busy sorting right and wrong, forbidden and allowed, wanted and forced. He heard himself moan, he squirmed and dug his fingernails into Frank's back as his gentle bite into Dante's nipple sent an electric shock through his entire body. Suddenly he wished Frank's mouth would move further down, but it moved up, back to his neck, while Frank's fingertips began to caress his dick.   
Dante couldn't have told how his hand had come to the back of Frank's neck, pushing him down so that he wouldn't stop kissing- somewhere in the back of his mind there was a worry that he would have to explain any red marks, but he pushed it aside for now. Frank's fingers gently caressed and brushed over his dick, far too lightly and yet most tantalizingly. There was no comparison to Tom's hard quick strokes, which had turned all the pleasure and satisfaction into something disappointingly short-lived; it only now really struck him.   
"Show me how to do it right," Frank whispered, and before Dante could give the words any real meaning, his hand was guided. Frank's dick felt even bigger and more impressive than it looked, and it was a very strange sensation to be holding a dick that wasn't his own.   
And then Dante lost himself in the overwhelming mix of kisses and touches and lust, they moved, shuddered, moaned, and somehow there was barely room for their hands. He wanted more- but not like this- though his confusion, his inner turmoil to what he actually wanted was drowning in his lust.   
"Dan-" Frank made a surprisingly shrill sound which turned into a low rumble, and came all over Dante's belly. His moans and hot breath made Dante shudder. Dante's hand, having done its job, slid to his balls and caressed them as he jerked his hips needily, for Frank had paused for a moment. Frank gasped and turned his attention back to Dante, but the brief interruption seemed to have done something, because two heartbeats later Dante's mouth opened in a silent scream and his orgasm literally tore him apart.

"This," Frank murmured as if from afar, "was incredible."   
"Yeah..." Dante muttered back out of breath. In the darkness he saw mere shadows, but he turned his head in Frank's direction anyway and was a little surprised when Frank sought his with his mouth and kissed him gently. And he was even more surprised when Frank placed a kiss on his shoulder afterwards; it seemed to him- no matter how intimate they had just been- a strangely intimate gesture.   
"I think we should wash," Frank whispered, and Dante, who was starting to feel uncomfortable with the sticky stuff on his chest and belly, agreed wholeheartedly.

~

After the alarm clock rang, the morning began with far too many, far too intense kisses on the part of Frank, which Dante had to stop with more vehemence than was good. Therefore, much too late, a disgruntled Dante and a slightly offended Frank reached the kitchen and hadn't even started eating when Seth and Daniel already came in.   
"Did something happen? You guys are so late..." Seth immediately asked with a worried undertone.   
Frank beamed at him with a childlike enthusiasm which belied what they had done last night. "Dante was telling stories from Denser's Port yesterday."   
Dante got into the story and made a guilty face. "Maybe I am a little homesick after all."   
Almost immediately loving, compassionate smiles appeared on the faces of the two slaves. "But please don't keep yourselves overly awake. There's always something to do." Seth said, and Dante nodded in time with Frank; he found it almost frightening how convincing Frank's childlike innocence was, though it was almost as frightening that apparently no one expected anything else of him.  
And the contrast between the two sides, which Dante now knew of Frank, was also damn strange.

~

"Tell me... did they throw the riddles of the world at your feet, or why have you been pulling such a brooding face for the last three days?"   
Dante shoved the shovel into the frozen ground and then looked over at Tom, who was standing a few feet away, leaning on his own shovel. "Can't I even think?"   
"Slaves don't think."   
Dante snorted. He knew what Tom was getting at, but he certainly wasn't going to blurt out this delicate truth to the world. "I had a talk with Frank," he began instead. "And... damn it, he's not stupid, but everyone treats him like a stupid kid. Nobody bothers to question anything, nobody-"   
"Because it's convenient.", Tom interrupted him, strangely disgusted. "Outwardly Mistress Carolyn would do anything for her son, poor little damaged thing, but basically he's just a frugal worker. Invisible as long as he doesn't open his mouth."   
Dante was about to say something, but Tom shook his head.   
"You see it. Your mistress is the only one who halfway cares about him, but even she has other priorities at heart. It used to be Blaise, but I think the whole story is hurting him too much. It's eating him up."   
"Is that why he seeks comfort from you?" Dante asked with bitter derision and Tom shrugged.   
"Possibly. I mean, what does a freed slave have to look forward to when his own family is so broken up?"   
Dante had no answer to that and with an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he turned back to his work. Unfortunately, digging damaged fence posts out of frozen ground wasn't very mentally challenging, so his thoughts drifted to Blaise and Frank and Tom. A freed slave who loved his wife and children... And then Dante frowned as something occurred to him. Blaise had said he loved Tom like a son- but should you really say that about a man you have sex with?   
The low rumble of a jeep snapped Dante out of his thoughts and he raised his eyes; Valentine was obviously in a hurry and roared past them.   
"Do you think something happened?", Dante wanted to know worried and Tom rolled his shoulders uneasily.   
"I hope not..."   
Frank, who arrived a minute later with other tools, also looked worried. "Val was in quite a hurry," he said quietly.   
"As long as Doc Willers doesn't come with flying colors, too, it won't be too bad," Tom said reassuringly.   
It didn't take an inordinate amount of time for Valentine to leave at an equally high speed, which clearly reassured Frank and Tom, but Dante, for some reason, wasn't. As soon as they finished their work, he nodded to Tom and went to check.

~

Inside the house nothing spoke of a catastrophe- Mikey was singing to a song at the radio while preparing something in the kitchen- and therefore Dante hurried up the stairs. He heard one of the girls reciting some poem, but stopped dead in front of his mistress door. If he hadn’t seen Valentine leaving the farm, he would assume Mistress Alice was yelling at her fiancé. After a shrill angry scream there was a thud and carefully Dante opened the door to poke in his head.   
What he saw was a mess. The room was a mess with clothes and books and a lot of other stuff thrown around and his mistress was a mess as well, the personification of helpless, angry desperation.   
“Mistress…?”   
With another scream she spun around. “Go away!”   
“Mistress, I-”   
“Fuck off! Leave! _Go!”_   
When he didn't react immediately, she threw a whole series of insults at him - under other circumstances he would have run away with a bright red head, but his mistress wasn't quite in her right mind. In all the chaos, there were shards on the floor- two teacups and a picture frame had been broken- and the completely distraught way she was behaving made Dante fear for her. It didn't take a genius to imagine what had happened between her and Valentine.   
"Get the hell out of here!"   
"No." His answer wasn't quite as firm as he would have liked.   
_"No?"_ A hint of puzzlement flitted across her tear-streaked face.   
"No." He stepped fully into the room, closed the door behind him, then knelt beside it. For a moment he thought her anger would now be directed at him, but after a frustrated cry she continued to throw things around, though nowhere near as overflowing as before- Dante had been quite successful in breaking through her whirlwind of emotions.

Finally, she just stood there, sobbing, tugging her hair, and Dante slowly rose. Carefully, he approached her - she backed away from him, but when she was about to step into the broken glass, he grabbed her and pulled her to him. She resisted, punching and kicking at him, but he held her firmly, taking full advantage of his physical superiority, and after a while she gave up.   
Her head sank against his shoulder and she sobbed in exhaustion. Gently he caressed her back and her hair and slowly the fear that she might hurt herself ebbed away, giving way to the desire to help her feel better. He wanted to protect her- from herself, from Valentine, from the whole world if he had to- and so he lifted her up and carried her to her bed. She just let it happen, her limbs will-less like a doll's as he set her down and, driven by a sudden wave of affection, sat down beside her and pulled her again to him.   
Her head rested against his chest, her hand curled into his shirt, and as he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back soothingly, she once again began to cry.   
He didn't say anything, didn't know what he should have said, just leaned his cheek against her head at one point, wishing he could do more than that.

And so they sat there while time passed and it went dark in the room. From time to time, muffled voices came in from the hallway, and after a while Dante was glad that he had been straight to the bathroom after taking off his dirty work clothes. Mistress Alice practically didn't move, only stopped crying at some point. Finally, when there was a knock, she minimally raised her head.   
"Alice...?" It was Blaise. "Alice, it's Pa, are you all right?"   
She didn't respond.   
"Alice, please open the door!"   
"Mistress?" whispered Dante, but by then Blaise was already opening the door himself and turning on the overhead light. Blinded, Dante blinked, then suppressed a sorrowed smile as Blaise looked at the mess, completely stunned.   
"I..." he cleared his throat, "I'll bring you some food up," he said quietly, and disappeared.   
"I don't want anything to eat.", Mistress Alice muttered when the door had closed.   
Dante sighed; he could understand her, but it wasn't good. "Do you want me to fake-eat for you?"   
She lifted her head and looked at him, and following a feeling, he wiped her cheeks with his sleeve, even though her tears had long since dried. It felt good. "Why not..." She slid out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, staying there until Blaise returned with a tray and two plates.   
Dante set it down on the desk and frowned. His stomach reported hunger, but appetite was not there, so he forced himself to eat.

When Mistress Alice returned from the bathroom, there was still enough left for her to get sated as well, but she didn't dignify him with a glance and instead put on her pajamas as if he wasn't even there.   
He watched her and thought to himself that she was too thin and needed to eat more, wondered why Valentine had left her (if that was even the case), and again felt an urgent desire to hold her comfortingly in his arms.   
"Go away." she said half-heartedly as she slipped under her covers.   
"No." he returned quietly. She didn't elaborate, so he stepped up to her bedside, turned on the bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light, and began cleaning up the mess.

He was far from finished when she sighed deeply. "Dante..."   
"Yes, mistress?" He slid a dress onto a hanger and hung it in the closet.   
"Change your clothes... and come here..."   
"Yes, mistress." A little puzzled, he closed the closet and complied with her request; when he hesitantly slipped into her bed, she turned her face away, almost ashamed.   
"Don't leave me alone." she whispered, turning out the light.   
"No, mistress." he assured her, and was little surprised when she snuggled into his arms. Instead, he was happy that she trusted him, and he held her until she fell asleep, though the position was not exactly comfortable for him. Listening for her quiet breaths, he kissed her gently on the crown. "If you don't sell me, I won't leave you alone..."

~

Dante was awakened by a hand sliding under his pajamas and caressing his belly.   
Mistress Alice had snuggled against his back, her face pressed between his shoulder blades, making a sound that sounded like a purr.   
_She's dreaming_ , Dante told himself, but turned to face her, wondering briefly what his morning wood had to say about it- though her hand slid upward, the answer was an expectant twitch.   
She stretched, her lips brushing over his chin and just reaching his mouth as her fingertips brushed against his collar. Immediately she paused, then jerked back. "Damn!"   
"Mistress...?" Dante sat up and couldn't help but touch the stupid slave collar himself.   
"Oh, _damn_ it!" Her angry exclamation turned into a sob.   
"Mistress..." He reached out to touch her, but no sooner had he made contact with her back than she hissed:   
"Don't touch me!"   
He backed away, raising his hands apologetically. "I was just trying to comfort you." In return, he got a deadly stare that actually hurt.   
She sank down, quivering and trembling, and softly, slowly, he repeated his words:   
"I only want to comfort you."   
"I don't need comforting." she said barely louder and almost bitterly. "I let him go."   
"... let him go?"   
"His aunt, the High Priestess, has set up a sponsorship program. For men in the medical field. He's allowed to participate, of course." She snorted quietly. "A year at the training hospital in Denser's Port..."   
"But-"   
"He asked me to go with him."   
"Why did you say _no_?" Dante wanted to know, completely dumbfounded; the decision was utterly incomprehensible to him.   
"I can't leave Frank alone."   
Flabbergasted, Dante blinked at the back of her head. "You... you're leaving the man you love for your brother?"   
"Maybe you haven't noticed," she began venomously, "but I'm the only one here who cares about him, and I know I'm not doing enough for him." She gave him a look that made him flinch. "But do you have _any idea_ how hard it is sometimes to even _look_ at him? No? How could you, you have no family..."   
Confused, caught off guard, and even a little offended, Dante sat there and swallowed hard.   
"Ma would never let me take him, and on top of that, he wouldn't want to go at all."   
"And that's why you flush your own happiness down the toilet?" He saw the slap coming, but it still stung.   
"My twin brother is dead and Frank is-"  
 _Don't say anything wrong now or I'll hit you back!_ it flashed through Dante's mind as hot anger rose inside him. If she really wanted to help Frank, there were other, _better_ ways to do it, even he knew that.   
Maybe she could read those thoughts on his face, because suddenly her anger died away. "Go." she said quietly. "I don't want to see you again until bedtime."   
Obediently, he slid out of bed and bowed. "Yes, mistress."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think some of you have already seen that this is now part of a series. The second part is a spin-off, which takes place on the timeline from here technically in about six weeks. Those who want to can already read it, but otherwise I'll let you know when the events there will be picked up here.


	19. Who the Great Mother calls

Dante began the first day of _Hella_ , the eleventh month of the year, with a silent prayer. He had been taught that way, and even though he had always questioned traditions, he would never think of doing so for those concerning the dead. In the world in which he had lived until now, the first and last day of the month were holidays, with closed stores, filled temples, covered mirrors and extra place settings on the dining table - accordingly, it surprised him little to blink at a black cloth in the bathroom. But that all the picture frames on the walls were covered - even if there was only a landscape photo in it - surprised him, in addition, in every corner there seemed to be black candles or arrangements of dried flowers. In the kitchen, as expected, there was an empty plate on the table and a tall black candle in the middle of a wreath of fir branches.   
Dante hesitated at the sight long enough for Frank to come up behind him.  
"Hey..."   
"Hey..."   
In an oddly familiar gesture, Frank touched him briefly on the lower back and then pulled a lighter from a drawer to light the candle. "You have a funny look on your face..." he then murmured, and Dante shrugged.   
"They honor the dead a little differently here, apparently."   
Frank raised a brow. "Is that so?"   
"I didn't see black candles anywhere before..."   
"The Parkers make some of the candles. Plenty of bees around here, after all." He said this unusually seriously and Dante nodded simply; they looked at each other for a moment, then Frank nodded barely noticeably and they began breakfast preparations.

"We're only working until noon today," Frank then began as Dante placed the filled plates on the table. "We're going to Townsend for the Mass."   
"But not _all_ of us, right?"   
"... no." It seemed to embarrass Frank, so Dante didn't ask further.

Later, when the family had left, he stopped in front of the dresser in the hallway. Two picture frames had been placed there, surrounded by large burning hour candles and dried flowers.   
It wasn't hard to guess who the blond boy in the photo on the right was, laughing happily into the camera with cherries hanging over his ears. _Anthony._   
The other picture showed a middle-aged woman sitting exceedingly stiff in an old-fashioned armchair, wearing a serious, almost disapproving face. Next to her, on a low stool, sat a man- a slave- who also did not look very happy. Purely from logic, it was probably Miss Carolyn's parents, but Dante didn't find much resemblance between Mistress Charlotte and the man on one side and Miss Carolyn and Carter on the other. However, he had seen an uncomfortably similar expression on Mistress Alice's face before, and at the memory of Seth's words that Mistress Charlotte had been a real tyrant, Dante shuddered. Respectfully, he bowed before the images of the dead and left.

~

"I'm afraid it's exceedingly fitting..." Miss Carolyn said abruptly and Dante lowered his fork, casting a questioning sideways glance at Seth, who frowned.   
"What is it, dear?" Blaise asked softly.   
The matriarch sighed. "Arianna Horner has passed away. The 'harmless cold' was too much for her after all."   
For a moment there was silence. Dante didn't know the old lady, but he closed his eyes and mentally said a quick prayer.   
"At least she won't have to look at the misery anymore," Miss Britney murmured.   
"Excuse me?" asked Miss Carolyn pointedly calm.   
"It's true. Maggie can never get the farm together and Matthew is too selfish-"   
"That's enough." It was probably Miss Carolyn's expression which silenced Miss Britney, for her voice revealed nothing.   
"Matthew does what he can," Miss Sarah said quietly and Daniel grimaced in a silent plea for her to shut up.   
"Want to bet he'll show up here in the next few days and start courting Alice?" Miss Britney sneered and Mistress Alice snorted indignantly, but Blaise forestalled her with a reply:   
"This is no time for such talk."   
Someone drew breath for a retort, yet there was silence.

"I'm going to call Maggie," Dante heard Miss Sarah say after dinner, as he cleared the empty glasses onto a tray. "She's got to remember to file the inheritance papers for Matthew."   
"Are you really going to bug her about this _now_ of all times?", Mistress Alice wanted to know critically.   
"Slow down Jack, the stairs aren't a race track. Well, not really, but you know the situation. She's too banged up herself to put it on the back burner."   
"Why is Miss Carolyn so irritable lately, by the way?", Daniel asked Seth with an unhappy expression.   
"I don't know," Seth said quietly, clinking the silverware. "I really don't know."   
"Is it because of Flynn or Adam?" Dante dared to ask, and Seth shook his head.   
"It started before that."   
"Let's hope it subsides quickly, or this is going to be an uncomfortable winter," Daniel said quietly, seeming to shudder.

~

_"What?"_ Dante asked, frowning while turning the ignition key, the engine stopped.   
"How did you get into that parking slot?" Mistress Alice looked at him with wide eyes.   
"Skill." he said emphatically, deliberately provoking her.   
For a moment she merely looked at him, then gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Show-off." She smiled faintly, and inwardly he grinned because he had judged her correctly, though outwardly he allowed himself only a smile as well.   
"Entirely yours, mistress." They got out, into the early twilight and the cold wind, and Dante locked the car before handing her the keys.   
"Behave yourself." she said sternly.   
"Of course, mistress."   
"I'm serious, Dante. Ellen cares a lot about appearances, and if you embarrass us..."   
"I know how to behave." He let her hear that he was offended, though he didn't really know what she expected of him, since he was a _personal_ slave for the first time.

The answer to this came in part from the kneeling cushions lying beside the tables and the deeply humble posture of the slaves who were already present.   
"Alice, over here!" Mistress Alice's best friend Ellen sat in a cozy alcove and raised her hand in greeting.   
Dante dutifully lowered his eyes, but still caught a glimpse of an overly large nose and a wry mouth.   
"Ellen, my goodness, how long have you been waiting?"   
"Oh, not long. I stopped by to see Madeleine and the baby."   
The two women chatted blithely, Dante helping his mistress out of her coat and then kneeling on the cushion to her right. His back ached from working and he went into a hollow back a little, knowing it would hurt even more tomorrow, but he wouldn't allow himself to be noticed negatively because of bad posture. When the women ordered hot chocolate, his mouth went dry with envy and he decided to at least treat himself to a hot cocoa tonight, even if the drinking powder was no comparison. He cautiously squinted over at Ellen's slave, who was positioned between the women, and froze- the young man was wearing a leash attached to a hook on the table. Was this a common punishment around here, as it was in Denser's Port, or did it mean something else?   
"I heard about Miss Horner," Ellen said at that moment, and Dante listened up. "You're in touch with them, aren't you? Give them my condolences, I don't want to just call."   
"Sure." Mistress Alice leaned back as the hot chocolate was served and then Dante winced as she touched him on the head. "Would you like some tea, Dante?"   
"I... yes, mistress. Thank you, Mistress.", he replied, caught off guard, but not daring to look up.   
"Of course, sister." the waitress said dutifully, hurrying off in clicking heels.   
"What's the Horners' situation now?", Ellen picked up the thread again, sounding awkwardly curious.   
"Maggie is drawing up the documents for Matthew to be named heir. I'm just afraid, despite all her medical expertise, it's going to take a while," Mistress Alice replied.   
"It's a mystery to me why he doesn't just get married. I mean, you're free again now-"   
"Ellen..."   
"- but there was no way that could have been foreseen."   
Mistress Alice sighed, "Because Matthew is Matthew. He wouldn't be happy with just any woman."   
"Men aren't ostensibly there to be happy either, Ally," Ellen remarked snidely. "He shouldn't have let Anne go."   
"She's lost her patience, Ellen, and I can actually relate to that." Mistress Alice sounded odd, Dante thought, but the gossip about the Horners was more interesting.   
"Come on, Victor wasn't that fond-"   
"Now don't start comparing Victor and Matthew." Mistress Alice rolled her eyes audibly. "Victor only joined the Brotherhood because of his family, and he gave a damn about it, and Matthew takes it decidedly seriously. According to Sarah, he has-" She didn't voice what he had, but judging by Ellen's giggles, it was something X-rated. It reminded Dante that he hadn't yet asked Blaise or Tom about the Brotherhood, but the thought quickly vanished as a slave bowed at the table.   
"Miss, the tea for your slave."  
"Thank you."   
"Thank you.", Dante also murmured and accepted the tea; for lack of alternatives, he had to put the saucer on the floor. It was only cheap lemon tea, presumably unsweetened, but there was a shrink-wrapped cookie on the spoon, which was a tiny plus.  
"... anyway, nothing has happened in that direction yet, if that's what you mean." Mistress Alice sipped her hot chocolate affectedly, and Ellen snorted.   
"And now what? What are you doing now?"   
"Nothing? I mean, what am I supposed to do?"   
"Please don't pick the wrong guy again."   
"Val wasn't-"   
"Val has always been way too ambitious. Much more than is good for a man," Ellen interrupted her angrily.   
"Oh, is there going to be another discussion about how I should have taken Benny after all?"   
"I guess he wouldn't be dead now." At Ellen's cool retort, Mistress Alice remained silent for a moment and Dante, who had been about to reach for his tea, paused. The chatter of the other guests suddenly seemed overly loud to him.   
"Benny killed himself because Gabby treated him like shit," Mistress Alice finally said slowly and very emphatically, and Dante finished his motion.   
"Would you have-"   
"What am I supposed to do with a man I know I'm not going to be happy with? I mean, you could have had him too."   
The pointed exchange of words continued as Dante sipped his disgustingly sour tea, wishing he had politely declined. As the topic became more uplifting, Ellen began to scratch her slave's head and he fervently prayed that his mistress didn't get the same idea.   
She didn't.   
He finished his tea and waited, as a good patient slave would.

"Dante, don't ever do that again."   
Irritated, he gave her a quick glance before turning back to the road. "Did I do something wrong?"   
"No. But you were boring."  
" _Boring_? Excuse me, but you told me to behave myself."   
"Yeah, yeah, it was perfect for the occasion, but it was boring." She sighed and pulled out a smartphone from her jacket pocket that he had never seen her use before. "Ellen's disappointed. I told her you had fire in the belly."   
"I have-" Puzzled, he squinted through the windshield.   
"I meant it as a compliment."   
"Uh... thanks..."   
She typed with a smile, then said: "Just be less boring next time."   
"Next time I'll stand behind your chair with a scowl and scare the slaves away."   
With a soft laugh, she nudged him in the arm and he looked to her again; the glow of the smartphone made her eyes sparkle and he returned her smile. "Eyes on the road." she said quietly and he looked ahead. On the purely external side, she was taking the breakup with Valentine well. Dante himself suspected that Valentine had known full well that she would want to stay, and had forced her to choose. And certainly Mistress Alice was not so foolish as to overlook his ambitions or the direction his aunt had taken as High Priestess years ago. But it was still good to see that she could smile and even laugh.   
She gave an annoyed sigh.   
"Hmm?" made Dante questioningly.  
"We're too far from Townsend, there's no wireless here," she grumbled, putting the smartphone away.   
"This wouldn't have happened to you in Denser's Port..."   
"Denser's Port is out of my league," she muttered, and he felt her gaze on him. "But I'm sure you would have loved to go back home, wouldn't you?"   
"I go where my mistress sends me."   
"Stop the hollow phrases."   
"I mean it. Sure, Denser's Port is great, but I'd rather serve a good mistress in the back of beyond than a bad mistress at the center of the world."   
She said nothing to that for so long that they reached the long driveway to the farm. "I think I'll keep you."   
"Oh... really, why?"   
"So I can free you."

~

The cold wave, typical of _Hella_ , came earlier here in the north than Dante was used to, and more violently at that. The others smiled at him a little because he was wearing two pairs of socks and a T-shirt under his normal long-sleeved shirt, but he was freezing. The house also cracked and creaked in the cold, as if pulling up its shoulders and wiggling its cold toes. The size alone made it hard to keep the house warm, and Dante didn't even want to know the cost. What did they use to heat the place anyway? Electricity? Gas? Oil?   
The kitchen was one of the few places that was actually consistently warm, and Dante stood by the stove in the morning, letting the gas flame warm his belly as he stirred the pan.   
"You look like an animal that's been woken up in the middle of hibernation," Frank teased, wrapping his arms around him from behind.   
"It's cold.", Dante complained in the defiant tone Frank usually mastered to perfection.   
He promptly chuckled and patted Dante's belly. "Next year you'll have to put on more winter pounds."   
"Winter pounds?"   
"I wouldn't want you to freeze to death."   
Dante snorted. "Then I'll look like Mikey."   
"Uh... okay, no, let's not get there. I like you just the way you are." Frank's kiss on his shoulder was barely noticeable. "You know," he said then, and Dante could hear his grin, "on the other hand, that's a pretty good reason to snuggle up."   
_And don't tell me again he's only ten at heart_ , Dante thought, as Frank nestled his lap against Dante's butt.

"You again!" said Frank, happily surprised, as Dante entered.   
"My mistress heard a toddler whining, but with Jack already asleep, there weren't many options left," he returned, grinning as Frank stuck his tongue out at him. What surprised him a little was the fact that Frank was sitting at his desk, trying rather semi-successfully to hide something from Dante; not wanting to embarrass him, he pretended not to have seen anything and went into the bathroom to change and brush his teeth.   
As expected, Frank snuggled up to Dante under the blankets and rubbed his nose on the back of his neck. His hand slipped under Dante's pajamas and drew patterns on his skin.   
Meanwhile, Dante pondered whether Frank's developmental penny had dropped- and if so, why- and whether his behavior was some kind of subconscious compensation. But why didn't he show his family? Was he afraid they wouldn't believe him? Matching his thoughts, Frank slid his hand down his pants and began to gently fondle his balls- an exceedingly pleasant sensation, he had to admit. However, he then became uncomfortably aware that Miss Carolyn might interpret the matter quite differently, with Dante as the culprit, forcing her son to do such things. He shuddered, and not with arousal, though he was getting hard.   
"You're really cold, hmm?" Frank murmured, kissing his neck.   
"Yeah...", Dante mumbled, not wanting to reveal his thoughts. At least not now.   
"Let me help you get warm," Frank whispered, pushing Dante's pants down, then his own. Frank's skin was hot against his, his erection nestled rock-hard between Dante's buttocks, and a mixture of arousal and fear overtook him, made him shudder. But Frank just kept stroking Dante's dick tenderly. "Do you touch yourself?" he wanted to know, and Dante indicated a shrug.   
"Not often."   
"What do you like?"  
The question surprised him. "I... I don't know."   
"Hmm..." Frank's grip tightened a little, his movements quickened, and Dante sighed comfortingly.   
"That's nice..." It was an extremely pleasant moment, he thought, until Frank began to move. The friction of dick and butt cheeks was too dry, uncomfortable, and Dante's thoughts twitched briefly to the bottle of lube lying in his bedside cabinet. He had merely tried the stuff once and found that he didn't like the way it felt, and besides, he didn't need the lube, but neither of them would get up and get it now. Especially since Dante didn't want to mislead Frank into thinking he was ready for the next big step, either.   
"You're so quiet...", Frank then whispered and Dante noticed that his mind was completely elsewhere.   
"I'm enjoying." he returned, turning his head a little, whereupon Frank kissed him. He was still not really with it, because now he was thinking if anyone could hear them, but then a moan escaped him when Frank changed the rhythm. And then Frank started to make soft lustful sounds, although the little bit of friction on Dante's butt was hardly enough for that. On the other hand, however, Dante liked them, his hips finding a rhythm to match Frank's hand, and then he surprised himself by coming, his back arched wide, and a moan in his ear as if Frank had come at the same moment.   
But the lustful fog cleared abruptly when he felt something wet on his butt. "What are you doing?" he asked coarsely.   
"Shh..."   
"Frank! I-" He tried to turn to Frank, but he wrapped a leg around him and pinned his orgasm-weakened body to the mattress.   
"I won't hurt you... don't worry."   
"What-"   
"I'm just helping myself." Suddenly Frank's dick slid along Dante's butt, and a long second later he realized that Frank was abusing his cum as lubricant. His head sank back onto the pillow and he expelled the air as Frank's low moan became real. It was a strange sensation, but not an overly unpleasant one, and so he closed his eyes.   
Finally Frank came and sank against him, breathing heavily, but giving his thigh another wet squeeze.   
"Was it good?", Dante wanted to know, and couldn't help a slightly mocking undertone.   
"Yeah... I didn't mean to scare you, you know. Did you really think I was just going to...?" His fingertip briefly touched Dante's back entrance and Dante nodded. "No. Never." The serious vehemence was reassuring. "I want to try it, with you, but I don't want to hurt you."   
"You're pretty big." Dante remarked matter-of-factly, and Frank sighed sorrowfully.   
"I know." His hand caressed Dante's bottom and suddenly Dante was uncomfortable, so he turned and Frank's hand disappeared from there. However, he put a hand to Frank's cheek in return and pulled him down for a kiss. "I want to sleep with you," Frank then whispered shyly, and he froze. "Not now, but-"  
"It's okay," Dante whispered back. "Just... maybe for now we should wash and get some sleep..."

~

He ran through a supermarket with endless shelves and was looking for something. What it was, he didn't really know himself, but no matter how many corners he turned, he couldn't find anyone to ask. And then he suddenly ran towards a door, on the other side of which someone was standing and knocking. He reached out his hand, it knocked again- and then the floor was pulled out from under his feet. He rolled around, blinking confusedly into the darkness, and registered that Frank was standing up.   
There was another knock.   
Frank gave an in-between growl and grunt and opened the door.   
"Hey, um... I don't want to bother your parents, but... um... Adam died," Tom said so quietly that Dante barely heard him.   
Frank grunted again. "If you're already up here," he said slowly, "you might as well tell them straight."   
Especially since Tom, as Miss Carolyn's personal slave, actually had every right to do so, Dante thought, but he certainly wouldn't make a sound now.   
"I'd rather not. Dennis didn't want me to go up at all."   
"Then tell Seth." grumbled Frank, adding an explanation as to which little room belonged to the overseer of the house.   
"Okay..." Tom sniffed. "But... don't you think it's a little too cold to sleep naked?"   
"I was just getting dressed," Frank growled sullenly. The lie came admirably fluidly from his lips, and Dante scrambled across the bed to keep the alarm clock from ringing every second.   
"Okay... I'll see you later," Tom muttered, and Frank closed the door with a sigh.   
"That was pretty quick about Adam...", Dante muttered uneasily, fumbling for the light switch.   
Frank grumbled unwillingly and rubbed his eyes. "I think it's better this way. At home, asleep..."   
Dante nodded thoughtfully and wrapped his arms around himself. Even back when his mistress had died unexpectedly, it had been a strange feeling to know that he himself had slept completely unconcerned not far away. But on the other hand... probably every second a person somewhere was dying.

~

The frozen grass crunched under Dante's boots as he walked to the shrine; even through his jacket he felt the cold bench as he sat down. The Mitchells had united left for Mass once again after Adam's body had been taken away, and the silence of the house had made Dante uncomfortable. He looked up at the statue of the Great Mother and began a silent prayer which was interrupted a little later by the sound of footsteps.   
"You shouldn't be sitting here in the cold," Tom said quietly, sitting down beside him nonetheless.   
Dante shrugged and gave him a quick glance. The work slaves and Blaise had shaved their skulls, and while it made Blaise look old and downright sick, it suited Tom surprisingly well.   
"Do you pray?"   
"I was trying to."   
"Sorry to interrupt."   
"It's okay..." Dante sighed and looked back at the statue.   
"Hasn't anyone around you ever died?" Tom asked gently and Dante nodded.   
"A mistress. One of the good ones."   
"It gets us all at some point. Old age, illness, violence, accident..."   
"Tom, please..."  
"Sorry."   
They were silent for a moment, then Dante quietly wanted to know: "Did ever someone die who was close to you?"   
"M-hm." A bitter tug settled around Tom's mouth and he lowered his eyes to his boots.   
Dante, who had really wanted to be alone anyway, was silent until Tom finally said:   
"I can understand the Mitchells keeping quiet about the dead."   
"It still hurts, right?" Dante dared to ask and Tom nodded slowly, nevertheless he refrained from asking who had died.   
They were silent once more, and this time it stayed that way. The cold wind crept into Dante's collar, he was terribly cold, but he remained seated until at some point he felt Tom's gaze and together they got up and walked back to the house.   
At the door to the workers' entrance they paused. "Adam," they said quietly, almost in unison, kissing their fingertips to touch forehead and chest, "I will speak your name and remember you." To Dante they were ritual words, spoken out of respect for tradition, but he could tell Tom meant it. They stepped over the threshold, and while the depressed mood was almost palpable, Dante wondered if this big house would ever really be his home.


	20. New members in the Mitchell household

Dante slept very badly, tossed from side to side, and more than once had trouble separating dream fragments from reality. Consequently, it took him a moment to realize that the strange cry was coming from the here and now. Puzzled, he got up and went over to Mistress Alice's room- she herself was sitting up in bed, bedside lamp on- and listened for a moment to the voices in the hallway.  
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, and his mistress shrugged. Again, a shout.  
"Oh..." she made, as if suddenly everything was clear to her, and slid out of bed. "Wait here..." She slipped out into the hallway, where Miss Carolyn was just talking to someone in a soothing tone.  
"... it's going to be all right, you hear? You've been through this before..."  
He heard Mistress Alice's voice, the hum of Blaise, and then she came back and closed the door.  
"The water's running."  
Confused, he blinked at her. "Excuse me?"  
"Sarah's water broke. The baby's coming."  
"Oh..."  
She climbed back into bed and yawned. "Pa's taking her and Daniel to the hospital..."  
"I thought it was supposed to be taken the day after tomorrow..." he said quietly.  
"Seems to have a mind of his own, the little guy..." She yawned again. "Go back to bed..."  
"Okay..." He had never served in a household with a baby; in fact, Jack, at five, was the youngest child on his experience list. Presumably Daniel would be even less available to general household duties now than he had been before. Thinking, he pulled the covers up to his chin, yawned into the pillow, and curled up.

~

To Dante's great surprise, his mistress joined him and Frank as they prepared their sumptuous omelet.  
"Is it a boy or a girl?", Frank wanted to know curiously while Mistress Alice was working on her tea. She gave a very unladylike grunt.  
"Boy." she then grumbled wearily. "I don't know his name."  
Dante chuckled and took the cup from her. "Why don't you sit down, I'll handle it."  
She obeyed, burying her face in her hands.  
"Are you all right?" Frank continued to ask, touching her gently on the arm. Dante saw her pat his hand and then the two exchanged a smile full of affection.  
"Just tired..."  
He took care of her tea and continued stirring the pan.  
"Are you sad?" Frank then suddenly asked into the comfortable silence.  
"Why should I be?" she asked back.  
"Because you don't have children. And now Val is... gone."  
She laughed quietly. "This has nothing to do with Val. I could do like Sarah and-" She broke off and Dante felt his face warm up. After she'd told him she didn't want to call him into her bed, he hadn't questioned the decision further. But things could change...  
He glanced over his shoulder; Mistress Alice was flushed, Frank looked decidedly curious.  
"I... um..." she cleared her throat, "I'm in no hurry with kids." Her gaze flickered to Dante and they both blushed even harder. The thought of sleeping with her was beyond exciting, and her embarrassment certainly didn't just originate from the fact that Frank supposedly had no idea where babies came from.  
He looked at Frank, who was looking at him with wide, curious eyes- quite the child waiting for answers- but there was a strange line around his mouth. Dante might have called it uncertainty, but the moment vanished when Mistress Alice sniffed.  
"Your omelet..."  
"Oh, damn!" Dante turned back around and snatched the pan off the stove.  
"I'm sure Dante would make a wonderful Pa..." Frank muttered in an odd tone, but the conversation was interrupted by Blaise, who stomped in heavily.  
"Does anyone mind making me a coffee?"  
Dante almost found it funny how Mistress Alice and Frank jumped up at the same time.

~

At lunch, the news arrived that little Sebastian would probably have to stay in the premature baby ward for a while, so the mood was rather anxious. They were already serving themselves when Dante was ordered to get Jack's favorite water cup, and no sooner had he gotten up than the doorbell rang.  
"I'm going," Seth said with a sigh.  
As Dante returned to the dining room, Matthew was just entering through the other door, looking like he didn't want to be here at all.  
"Matthew," Miss Carolyn greeted, a little surprised, "what brings you here?"  
"I really don't mean to intrude, Miss Carolyn..." he assured, pulling a thick envelope from his jacket, "but I was given documents for you at the Town Hall."  
"Ah, yes, thank you..."  
On an impulse, Dante asked: "Shall I get another plate?"  
"Yes." confirmed Miss Carolyn at the same moment Matthew protested:  
"No need."  
"Sit down." both Mistress Alice and Miss Britney said at the same time, and as Dante went into the kitchen again, he could have sworn that Matthew would have somehow squirmed out if not for Mistress Alice's request.

"By the way, I'd like to give best wishes from all of us for the new member of the family," Matthew said stiffly into the somewhat tense silence.  
"Thank you very much. How is Maggie?" Miss Carolyn asked.  
"She's... she was... I'm afraid she wasn't..."  
"She wasn't prepared for the full extent of the problem?" Miss Britney politely assisted.  
"No."  
"How are the documents coming along?" Miss Carolyn wanted to know.  
"Slowly but surely wins the race," Matthew sighed. "There are still a few things missing and... may I ask your advice about that later?"  
"Of course, dear."  
"I hope once that's settled, you'll find yourself a wife," Blaise then piped up.  
Seth rolled his eyes, TJ and Mikey grinned. Dante wasn't sure why, but if Blaise was going to try to push Matthew in the right direction, it could only end up embarrassing.  
"This... Well, I..." began Matthew awkwardly.  
"An heiress doesn't fall from the sky, you know."  
"I'm aware of that, but-"  
"And just between you and me, being married isn't a bad thing."  
"Blaise, my dear, don't overdo it." Miss Carolyn was obviously amused.  
"I-"  
"Or don't you like women at all?" Frank chipped in. "Because some of them are pretty daft."  
Dante sent a quick prayer to the Great Mother to please not let the situation escalate, and looked to Seth, who seemed almost shocked.  
"I-I like women, it's not like that... but you're right, some are... daft." Matthew sounded like he was forcing himself to smile. "Your sisters are adorable."  
Mikey had to cover his laughter with a coughing fit, and Dante wasn't the only one giving him a deadly look.  
"No, Britney isn't," Frank declared seriously.  
"Frank!" She was understandably outraged while Flynn was spitting his water across the table- but who was also stupid enough to want a drink at a moment like this? Dante agreed with Frank, but feared he would get a nice slap for it.  
"But Alice is great," Frank continued unconcernedly, and she sighed.  
"Frank, please..."  
And then Jessy topped it off: "You know, Matthew, he's right. I'd rather have Aunt Alice than Ma..."  
Flynn continued to cough for quite a while, while the others were wrapped in icy silence.  
Dante could barely get another bite down, and apparently poor Matthew felt the same way, because Mistress Alice said at one point:  
"You need to eat properly."  
"You of all people are telling me that?" It probably wasn't meant half as critically as it sounded, and Mistress Alice probably didn't take it that way either.  
"Well, unlike you, I don't do any physical labor."  
"I guess it's a different story in bed..." muttered Miss Britney, and Miss Carolyn immediately said sharply:  
"No such discussion at the table!"  
"That's what the one with the pleasure slave says?" Mistress Alice muttered back snidely, and then turned to Matthew and added, completely ignoring her mother: "You know, unless my dear sister grabbed poor Dante and raped him, he's still as virginal as the day he was born. I don't call _slaves_ to my bed."  
"Grandpa," Jack started, and Blaise interrupted him:  
"Not now, Jack."  
Dante, on the other hand, was blushing.  
"I didn't really want to know that much..." Matthew muttered highly embarrassed.

~

"You're really out of your mind," Dante grumbled as they left the house.  
Frank grinned despite the reddened cheek- he had, as Dante had prophesied, actually caught a slap in the face. "It was funny, wasn't it?"  
"What was funny?" Tom asked curious, joining them.  
"Frank asked Matthew at lunch if he liked women."  
"You asked to get a plate to make him stay in the first place," Frank shot back.  
"Great Mother, Frank, you don't ask questions like that in _public_ ," Tom also sighed. "Even if he was into men, he couldn't have said so."  
"Why not?"  
"Because he's the heir to the Horner farm and needs an heir himself. They don't fall out of the sky," Tom said seriously, almost angrily, giving Dante a quick look. "Dante explained to you how this works, didn't he?"  
To Dante's surprise, Frank blushed. "He did."  
"There you go..."  
They continued trudging across the frozen ground and Frank asked quietly:  
"But... he's in love with Alice. He can't like men then, can he?"  
"That's not impossible..." Dante said slowly, trying to hold Frank's gaze as calmly as he could.  
"The world isn't all black and white," Tom agreed, smiling encouragingly; Dante almost imagined getting a wink to this.

They worked rather silently along, which was probably mostly due to Frank's thoughtful silence, but also to Tom, who Dante thought was getting almost nervous. Just as Dante was about to return to the house for dinner preparations, Tom asked:  
"Dante, could you give me a hand?"  
"I got it," Frank said faster than Dante could open his mouth.  
"I can-"  
"No, go on, before you get in trouble."  
"I'd like to-" began Tom, but Frank was already stepping around a corner.  
"Gone!" Dante shouted at the same moment as something wooden cracked.  
"What's _that_?", Frank wanted to know, dumbfounded.  
"Uh..." Tom made sheepishly, and Dante, guessing what it was, grinned as he stepped out into the darkness.  
It was now Tom's turn to explain.

~

After dinner, Miss Carolyn called him in, and with an anxious question in his stomach as to what he might have done wrong, he entered her office, the door of which was open.  
"Miss Carolyn...?" Judging from the look on her face, the news for him personally probably wasn't quite as bad as he had feared.  
"You heard about two slaves escaping from the chemical park in Westshire a few days ago?"  
"Yes, miss." He nodded. "But they were caught, weren't they?"  
"No. That was a hoax." Miss Carolyn's lower jaw twitched. "But they shot a woman and stole her car."  
Stunned, Dante looked at her. "Where did they get a gun?"  
"That's exactly the award question. Next to where they are now, of course." Lips pressed into a thin line, she pulled open a drawer and, to his amazement, laid a pistol on the table. "You know how to use that?"  
"... yes." Uneasily, he looked at the black thing. He'd been sent to the shooting range a few times, but that was all.  
"A smaller version is deposited in the red car, in a secret compartment in the center console; Matthew is installing it now." She looked at him forcefully and he swallowed before nodding; it was a strange feeling that she was confiding this to him, that she was almost officially trusting him with her daughter, but on the other hand it also betrayed that she was afraid.  
And if a woman of Miss Carolyn's caliber was afraid, things were probably worse than slaves would be told.

~

Since Mistress Alice had later ordered him unusually gruffly to stay in the house the next day, Dante did just that. There had been no explanation, but orders were orders and so he gave Seth a hand.  
With a strange feeling in his stomach, which could have been due to yesterday's news but also to the green beans from lunch, and a stack of files in his hand, he walked to Miss Carolyn's office.  
"... is going to break him!" Blaise's voice boomed through the closed door.  
"You got a better solution?" Miss Carolyn hissed back angrily. "Blaise, we've been over this so many times now... If Britney hadn't been so stupid as to buy that floozy, I'd sleep more soundly, believe me."  
"But Alice-"  
"I fucking _know_!" Miss Carolyn's roar would probably have silenced any man who was at least half in his right mind, and Dante seriously considered just turning around and leaving, but while he was still standing there in shock, his matriarch- muttering angrily to herself- was already yanking open the office door. "You!" she hissed, using him as an outlet.  
Defensively, he raised his files. "Seth sent me."  
"Bring them here..." Blaise said, sounding infinitely tired.  
Dante would have loved to know what exactly the argument had been about- after all, his mistress's name had come up- but he would certainly keep his mouth shut.  
With a sigh, Blaise looked at his watch, then gave Dante a thin smile. "Go up to Alice, will you?"  
Dante nodded silently and hurried away.

Mistress Alice was tidying her desk, and at the expressionless look she gave him, he kept his mouth shut. Something was up.  
He watched her, standing unobtrusively in a corner, waiting, and finally she turned off the monitors and went to her closet. "Are you going out?" he wanted to know cautiously.  
"No. Grab your jacket."  
In slippers but wearing his heavy work jacket, he followed her out into the hallway; she, too, had only quickly put on light sneakers and thrown on a jacket. They stepped onto the porch in front of the house, where Miss Carolyn was already waiting, displaying a similar blank face as her daughter.  
Dante felt damn uncomfortable.  
A moment later, Miss Carolyn pointedly looked at her watch, but a car appeared among the trees.  
Mistress Alice hissed quietly.  
The small silver car approached and stopped in front of the house, two women got out; from the age and faces probably mother and daughter, matching Miss Carolyn and Miss Britney. The older one held a thin file folder and bowed slightly after stepping closer to the porch.  
"We'll abide by the agreement, Miss Mitchell," she said.  
"I wouldn't have accepted anything else, either," Miss Carolyn replied coolly, but Dante's brows moved upward as a chubby boy got out of the back of the car, a backpack hugged to his chest and tear streaks glistening in the sunlight on his round cheeks. The younger woman, probably his mother, put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the house; his gaze was fixed solely on the ground.  
Now life came to Mistress Alice's motionless figure and she stepped down two steps.  
"My... my son is your son, sister," the woman said as if choked.  
"Your son is my son, sister, I will take good care of him," Mistress Alice said calmly but coolly.  
The woman pushed her son on, who was now trembling as he climbed the steps; his reddish-blond hair stuck to his forehead, soaked with nervous sweat, and his freckles shone on his pale face. Mistress Alice touched him on the shoulder, walked with him back up the two steps, and Dante shuddered when he saw the laboriously controlled expression on her face.  
"Let's go into the house."  
The boy gave a suppressed sob and for a brief moment Dante was twelve again, taken by Sister Larissa to his first mistress, and he shuddered before putting on a smile.  
"Come into the house." he said softly, making an inviting gesture.  
They entered; the boy sobbed and shuddered.  
"Dante..."  
"Yes, mistress?"  
"You take care of him." She didn't even look at him, but simply disappeared. With a suppressed sigh, he watched her go.  
"What's your name?" he then wanted to know kindly. The boy who would spend the next thirteen years as an education slave in Mistress Alice's care sniffled.  
"H-Henry, sir."  
"I'm not a _sir_ , Henry, we serve the same mistress. My name is Dante."  
Henry nodded, his round cheeks trembling, and only very briefly did the gaze from his dark blue eyes twitch upward to Dante.  
"Come on, I'll show you the house."


End file.
